


Connor of Rooster Manor

by LigeiaMaloy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Angst, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-09-29 09:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: Picture this: Our world with the technologies of maybe the 1960s*. Old-fashioned infrastructures, TV, and all that. But with androids. No questions asked that's just how it is.Connor, an RK800, a discontinued series of domestic assistant androids, moves to the countryside to meet his new owner, Hank Anderson, an introverted, grumpy farmer who insists his dog and the farm animals are all the company he needs. Before these two can figure out how much they need each other, and why, Connor has to first get his foot in the door. After all, a mix-up might end everything before they even had a chance to say properly "Hello".TL;DR: This is an "Anne of Green Gables" AU. Similar premise, different end goals.*or 1980s? Mid-late 90s? I think I settle for mid-late 90s (for now). This happens when you don't make a plan beforehand, kids!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hohoho! Hope you all had some nice holidays and are not too bored by the between-the-holidays limbo!
> 
> I had this idea a few days back on Twitter and to get it out of my head, I had to write down a first, uncharacteristically short chapter.
> 
> Will I continue it? If, when? How often? I have no idea! Menschmaschine and Blue Whisper have, technically, priority, as does an original story.
> 
> Anyway, let me know if you like this idea (and don't mind my high demands on your suspense of disbelief) and would like to read more. Also, when I continue this, there'll also be Markus/Simon as a secondary background ship, I can tell that much.
> 
> Finally, it's teen&up for now because it might take forever until it gets to more mature teams. I'll change the rating once the time comes.

 

"Here we are!" The carriage stopped abruptly as soon as the blonde android tugged the reins. "Rooster Manor. The closest neighbors live a fifteen-minutes walk down the road." He pointed at the path leading away from the whitewashed house with the faded red roof. "There,  you come at a crossing, if you turn left, it'll bring you to the village. If you're in charge of your owner's groceries, you need to learn your way around quickly. Have you a map installed?"

"I was updated to sufficiently execute my duties before I was delivered to the train station. Thank you for offering me a ride, PL600." 

"Simon. The androids you'll meet here all have been named." Simon bowed his head. His hair was short but exposed to the constant drizzle over their thirty-minute ride, the yellow strands had become heavy enough to drop over his forehead. "If it's not too imprudent to ask, do you go by your number? Although you're, well…"

"Connor." He nodded politely, the hands tightening around the handle of his suitcase. 

Simon gave him an understanding smile, something Connor expected to be directed at a human, not a mere android. 

"Nice to meet you, Connor. I assist the Hanson family at their store and at home. We'll see each other again when you come shopping. Or to church. If Mr. Anderson lets you go, that is." Simon's chipper voice dropped to a guilty whisper and he glanced past Connor, at the building behind him.

"If he lets me go?" Connor tilted his head, suppressing a shiver when raindrops dripped down his neck. It was still November but the temperatures hinted strongly at the approaching winter. 

"Mr. Anderson doesn't attend."

"Then I don't have a reason to go myself. As an android, I don't practice religion," Connor replied with a resolution in his voice that rang inappropriately strong in his own ears. He pressed his jaws together. He had to be more careful. Simon, however, didn't seem to have noticed anything unusual about his behavior and shrugged.

"It's still a good opportunity to meet the villagers and their androids outside their work. With so many humans together in a limited space, you learn a lot about them and their relationships. It's helpful."

"I didn't consider that. Thank you. Well, I think it's time to introduce myself to my new owner. I hope to see you again soon." He nodded politely and turned around when Simon called after him.

"It's not my place to say anything," Simon hesitated when Connor stopped to see what he wanted. He took a deep breath and sighed, a remarkably human behavior, Connor noted, as it's often observed in androids working for humans for a longer time. "See, Connor, Mr. Anderson is considered difficult."

"He's violent towards androids?" Connor raised his eyebrows but Simon shook his head.

"Not as far as I know. He hasn't owned one until now. I cannot give you facts as I haven't seen him often in all the years I've lived here but from what I've heard, he's not very sociable. He doesn't talk much and is not very polite when he does."

"I understand. Thank you for the warning. I'll be careful." A quiet owner didn't sound bad as long as he wasn't violent. Connor would do his best to please Mr. Anderson with quiet, efficient work and they'd get along well enough.

"Good luck!" Simon clicked his tongue. The plump gray mare reared its head and pulled the cart down the road towards the village.

Connor looked after Simon. Interesting. Simon seemed to have been among humans for a long time to treat him so casually. Offering him help in the first place had been a pleasant surprise and saved Connor from walking an hour and twenty minutes in the cold rain. He was lucky to have run into an android who had learned to emulate empathy which also told him a lot about Simon's owners. 

But now it was time to meet his owner. 

A gravel path wounded its way from the road to the house. Connor had to step around several puddles to keep his shoes clean. A wet autumn had turned the grass to his left and right into muddy fields. After a too dry summer, the grass had died and wasn't able to soak up the sudden downpours of the last few weeks. 

Large oaks and two willows formed a wall around the front of the house as if it was their castle to guard. A wide path led to the stables and sheds behind the farmhouse that didn't quite fulfill the definition of a manor.

"Rooster Manor." Connor almost whispered the words. "What a strange name. I wonder if there is a reason behind it." He didn't see any chickens, let alone a rooster, outside in this weather and while the house was spacious enough for the one man living here, it was not a manor. Connor recognized the rural charm and acknowledged this wasn't the best season for a farm to make a definite impression. He'd wait for a sunny day to judge this place but he was sure it had the potential to be beautiful if the light was more flattering to the colors.

The red door in front of him had been in need of a fresh coat of paint for a while. Connor looked for a bell but there was only a round, simple door knocker. “Peculiar.” Connor’s mouth twitched into a smile as he reached for the dull brass ring. Three short knocks. He waited. Counting down to three minutes, he knocked again.

He was early, thanks to the unexpected ride. There was a chance his owner was busy in the stables or not at home at all.  Connor’s instructions were clear: Go to Mr. Anderson’s home, introduce yourself, await your orders. Looking for him in the other buildings would violate the instructions as a stable was not the home of a human. Per se. However, the adjacent buildings belonged to Mr. Anderson’s home, so, technically, he could justify looking around, no specific permission necessary. 

If his new owner was willing to reason with him.

Connor decided to knock again and wait another five minutes before making a final decision. Three firm knocks were met by silence at first. Then, a moment later, something scratched over the floor behind the door. Claws, not feet. Connor stiffened and there it was, the loud, deep barking of a dog. 

He should have expected this. He was living in the countryside from today on, of course there would be dogs. Every property owner probably owned at least one. Sooner or later, he’d have run into one, and it was just right to get used to it as quickly as possible. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to. Dogs were popular and from afar, he could see the appeal. He wanted to like dogs and it wasn’t fair to judge all of them based on one experience. Yet, he’d have preferred to overcome his irrational prejudices after he had settled down in his new home. 

He sighed with relief when a human voice shouted through the first floor which only prompted the dog to intensify his efforts. Fortunately, there was a door between it and Connor.

The door! Connor took a step back, holding the suitcase in front of him like a shield. If there was a human in the house, then the door would…

“Sumo! Back to the kitchen with you! Can you believe this mutt…” A wide-shouldered man who was about a head taller than Connor opened the door. His gray hair was tied back to a messy ponytail and a shaggy gray beard covered his face. His practical shirt and pants and rubber boots were covered in mud. His hands disappeared in the long fur of the largest dog Connor had ever seen, grabbing what he hoped was a collar. The dog pranced excitedly on the spot, alternating between huffing and pulling away from the man and licking his face.

“Calm down already! You know the rule, no snacks before dinner!” 

Connor didn’t see much of his face as he wrestled with the dog but he heard the chuckles behind the seemingly stern voice. The dog caught it, too, and turned his full attention to its owner and whined, one of his large paws patting against the man’s stomach.

“Dinner. Kitchen.” The man pointed down the dark corridor and the dog darted off faster than it should be possible with his large mass. 

“Mr. Anderson?” Connor asked in a low tone. The man jerked around, his face pulled into a grimace of distaste. His jawline and nose were strong, his hooded eyes of a dark, intense blue and what might have looked handsome if he smiled, was a fierce, intimidating scowl. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he growled with a voice deeper than his dog’s, his frown deepening as he eyed Connor from head to toe. 

“My name is Connor,” Connor put on a smile and offered his hand, “the android sent by Cyberlife Refurbishment Facility. I look forward to working for you.” 

Mr. Anderson stared at his hand as if it was covered in filth. 

“The android? _You_?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” Mr. Anderson launched forward, grabbing Connor by his shoulder, jerking him around. “ _What_ the fuck are you?! Those shoulders,” he seized Connor’s wrist and pulled up his arm, “those hands. How is something like you supposed to do farm work?! I need someone to do _work_! Not some prissy bullshit like this!” 

“I- I’m not a farm model.” Connor tore his hand free, backing away. 

“No shit.” Mr. Anderson sneered, his face red. He crossed his arms and kicked the frame of the door. 

“I’m an RK800, the domestic assistant you ordered to help you with your household chores while you’re working on the farm. If you give me a moment-” Connor lifted his suitcase, looking for a spot to place and open it to show him the datapad with the purchase confirmation. “I can show you…”

“Boy, I don’t give a fuck!” Mr. Anderson barked. “And stop fidgeting, Jesus Christ! No wonder they discontinued your line.” He ran a hand through his hair. The band tying it together came off and the gray strands fell into his face. “I know what I ordered, and I certainly didn’t order a maid. I take care of my household myself. I need someone to help with the fields, dammit!” 

“A mistake…” Connor muttered, looking at his feet. This was a disaster. “They must have made a mistake. This means I have to go back…”

“Obviously.” Mr. Anderson snorted. “You’ll be shipped first thing in the morning! Ha, I got some choice words to tell those Cyberlife idiots. Qualified and uncomplicated indeed. Bullshit!” 

He turned on his heel, leaving Connor where he was, but when he was about to throw the door shut, Connor awoke from his paralysis. His foot stopped the door just before it closed. 

“No! Wait! You can’t do that!” 

Some of Mr. Anderson’s anger was replaced by confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about? I might not be an expert on androids but even I know it’s not on you guys to tell us what we can and can’t do.” 

“No, please, listen! I can help you! I can cook and clean, I can do anything you want around the house! I’m already paid. I don’t need anything. You won’t even hear me! ” The suitcase dropped to the ground and Connor pressed his whole body against the door. “This is my last chance! They sell discontinued lines only once! If I’m returned, it proves I’m not of value! They’ll destroy me!” 

“And this is my problem why?” Mr. Anderson still tried to close the door but with less force. “And anyway, why does that even bother you? You’re just an android. A fancy tool!” 

Connor stopped pushing. He was right, it shouldn’t bother him and the fact that it did would send him faster to his end than being useless on a farm. He sighed, his shoulders dropped. He had lost the argument before it began. He had lost his only shot at a second chance.

He looked into Mr. Anderson’s eyes, searching it for any other emotion than anger and rejection but he didn’t even know how empathy would look like when he saw it. 

“Please.” He had no emotions for this one word. For a moment, they looked at each other in silence. Back in the house, the dog shuffled through the rooms. At the end of the corridor, behind a half-opened door, the warm light from a hearth illuminated the kitchen. Connor wiped the rain from his face and pushed his brown hair back. It had been neatly styled before he was declared complete but now, his hair and clothes were soaked. 

Mr. Anderson sighed. “Christ, you’re worse than Sumo. Come in.” He stepped aside and opened the door. “Make no mistake, it’s only for the night! I don’t need you and I’m not a-” he rotated his hand to come up with the right word, “an orphanage for discarded robots. I’ll find you an owner tomorrow and that’s it. Got it?” 

“Got it.” Connor hurried to pick up his suitcase and walked inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is ridiculous, what is Hank supposed to do with a skinny android like this? He certainly won't keep him, no way! Looks too human, talks too much, and probably can't even lift a full water bucket without breaking his fingers. 
> 
> Fortunately, he quickly finds a solution. One man's loss is another man's gain. 
> 
> Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, things took a darker turn quickly. 
> 
> Teeechnically, I could cut this in two chapters. But I won't (there goes my resolution to write short chapters for this fic. I tried >:'V)
> 
> I'll also update the tags in a minute to cover the darker, angsty vibes. Please check them before you proceed with chapter 2. Things won't always be as idyllic and "clean" as they're in the source of inspiration.

Connor was sitting in the kitchen at the table, his suitcase on his lap. The greasy tiles of the old-fashioned stove needed a good cleaning to be restored to their former blue glory. The curtain fitted the stove’s color but hadn’t been washed in years. Connor’s fingers itched. Just three or four hours of scrubbing and sweeping, and this kitchen would be worthy of the cozy fire. At least, the top of the table had been wiped, although the formerly white tablecloth should have been replaced years ago.

“No, I clearly said, I need a strong model to help me handle the animals and work on the fields!” Hank Anderson shouted in the next room. He had mumbled something about giving some incompetent toymakers the verbal ass beating they deserved after he had shoved Connor into the kitchen and was on the telephone since.

Connor tried to direct his attention elsewhere. He couldn’t see much from his spot when he looked outside the window. Apple trees, a field behind. At this time of the year, the branches were sad and empty but spring would bring them back to life. He couldn’t wait to see how spring would transform Rooster Manor.

He sighed. Right, he wasn’t supposed to stay here. Worse, he had nowhere to stay and this might be the last time he’d see a human home from inside. Just because Mr. Anderson didn’t leave him out in the rain in a moment of sympathy to his please, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t return Connor.

The door to the next room creaked and the large head of the dog peaked inside. Connor moved his chair closer to the wall, clinging to the suitcase. The dog walked into the kitchen, halting in front of Connor. With a grunt, it lifted its head and moved it closer. Connor sat petrified, his eyes staring at the beast.

 _We have almost the same brown eye color,_ shot through his mind, his mouth twitched. What an absurd last thought. The dog’s nose bumped against his hand, it sniffed. Once, twice. Then, it jerked its mouth wide open, revealing two rows of large, pointy, white teeth.

Connor pressed his eyes shut and awaited his fate. He blinked when nothing happened. The dog closed his jaws with a smack, gave him a last look, and trotted to the bowl on the floor next to the fridge.

Connor’s shoulders dropped. He laughed, watching the animal. Just a yawn. He had been scared of a yawn. Fortunately, nobody had witnessed his irrational behavior or he’d have been deactivated on the spot.

He regained his composure not one second too soon. The talking had stopped and Mr. Anderson joined him in the kitchen, a sour expression on his face. Connor held back another treacherous sigh and wondered if this man ever smiled. He dropped on the second chair at the table, leaned his head against the wall, and rubbed his eyes.

“As if I didn’t have enough to do already. Nothing but trouble with you!”

Connor pressed his lips together, swallowing the urge to protest. He didn’t know how the mix-up could have happened but it wasn’t his fault. And since he was here, he had done as told and waited here. He had done nothing wrong!

“What’s happening to me now?” he asked instead, not liking how feeble his voice sounded at all. He had to fight harder to keep control over it.

“You stay here for the night and I’ll take you to your new owner tomorrow. If the fucking weather calmed its shit for a few hours, I might be back around noon and finally get some work done.” Mr. Anderson was back to his feet and took a beer from the fridge. He cracked it open and poured it down his throat.

“I’m not going back to Cyberlife?” It was hard to hide his relief but he did a decent job this time.

“Nah. People are so wasteful these days. You’re still functioning from what I can tell, why throw that away? You’re lucky there’s another order for an android open, just an hour from here. And this time, they’re sure it says domestic assistant.” He finished his beer and left the empty bottle on the counter.

“Thank you.” Connor allowed himself a smile. Mr. Anderson might insist he didn’t need a domestic assistant himself but this place did. Connor felt he could like it here, yes, maybe he’d even get used to the dog, if he was only given the chance to improve it. The kitchen would be a great start.

“His name is Sumo.”

“Oh?” Connor jerked up his head. He hadn’t noticed he was staring at the dog. Sumo. “He’s large. A St. Bernard, correct?”

“Yeah. Worst guard dog in the world but great company. Why would they make androids afraid of dogs? Especially one who’s supposed to work around a house?”

Connor raised his chin and straightened his shoulders.

“It’d be silly to program us with phobias. I’m not afraid of dogs. An unknown dog is a risk that requires to be calculated to avoid unnecessary damages. I don’t invade an unknown dog’s space, an absolutely reasonable way to handle an unpredictable situation. This doesn’t mean I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t forget to breathe.”

Connor opened his mouth to correct him; while he simulated breathing, there would be no harm if he didn’t as he didn’t possess lungs that required oxygen. But then he noticed a change in the man’s face. The trenches on his forehead eased and the corners of his mouth went up to form a hint of a smile. Only a small change but a decade fell from his face. It lasted only a moment but it was enough to reveal a rough handsomeness behind the thunderstorm of a temper.

“I’m an android. We can’t be afraid,” Connor insisted finally.

“Whatever.” Mr. Anderson shrugged and opened the door to the corridor. “Still got stuff to do. I’ll show you where you can sleep. Uh, do you sleep?”

“In a way, yes.” Connor jumped to his feet, careful to stay clear of the dog. Sumo. “We call it rest. It’s easiest to explain as a form of standby. We recharge our energy levels, undergo automatic system checks, and minor repairs, if necessary.” Mr. Anderson’s eyebrows went up.

“You guys can heal?”

“We don’t heal per se,” Connor explained. “We’re repaired. Larger damages need to be fixed by a technician but our bodies are able to repair minor ones on their own. This way, we don’t require maintenance from outside for every scratch.”

“The creepy achievements of modern technology. Come now.”

“Mr. Anderson, as a sign of my gratitude for not sending me back, would you allow me to assist you for the evening? I wouldn’t be in the way. I can clean the kitchen and fix you a meal while you go about your day, and I could-”

“Holy fuck, do you ever shut up?” He groaned, rolling his eyes. “If I ever order from Cyberlife again, I’ll make sure to add not a fucking chatterbox to the form. And no, I won’t have you mess with my kitchen or anything else.”

Connor kept his mouth shut as they left the kitchen. Mr. Anderson was still wearing his boots. The mud on them was drying, as were the footprints on the floor. Connor shuddered at the thought of him walking into the living room like this, carrying the dirt everywhere. Pawprints added to the mess. But Mr. Anderson’s words had been clear, he didn’t want Connor’s help and so Connor didn’t offer to clean the floor and the boots for him.

They left the house and took the path leading behind it. Mr. Anderson opened the door to one of the barns and waved Connor to follow him.

“They said farm helps can stay with the animals and begin their work right from there in the morning. Guess I can’t expect you to milk the cows but you can still sleep here. Rest. Whatever. Don’t mess with the animals or their food and for fuck’s sake, don’t set the hay on fire! I’ll get you tomorrow when we leave.”

He didn’t wait for Connor to get a word in. He closed the gate as he left, leaving Connor alone with four cows. The high windows were too smudged to let much light inside and as it was getting dark outside, it might as well have been hours later into the night. Connor waited for his eyes to adapt. His eyesight was only slightly improved over that of a regular human’s, mainly because research and reviews proved that most households weren’t comfortable with their artificial helps possessing too many inhuman skills.

After a short moment, he could see enough to move without bumping into things. He found a light switch at the wall but didn’t dare to use it. Well, it would have to do since he wasn’t supposed to work anyway. To his left, he found an empty box. Barrels with what he supposed was food for the animals and a tool chest stood on a ground covered with straw. A narrow bed with an old mattress was placed against the wall. No cover, no pillows. Connor concluded it was meant for him - no, for the farm help that should have been delivered - and placed his suitcase on it.

The drizzle had grown into a constant rain that was drumming on the flat roof. The wind howled around the corners and a constant draft forced its way under the barn door. Connor shivered in his wet suit. He left the box to walk around, hoping the clothes would dry if he moved around.

He had never seen cows before. Their size was impressive but they seemed less threatening than the dog. The gentle beasts were separated by iron bars that left enough room to stick their big head through them. One nibbled at its neighbor’s neck, whose tilted neck and closed eyes expressed a peaceful bliss. The third cow, a large animal with shaggy, brown fur, pushed its head through the bars of the gate when Connor came closer.

He smiled and put a hand on its nose, surprised how soft it felt.

“Hello. How are you? My name is Connor.” Maybe it was silly to talk to a cow but it was nice to have a conversation without being yelled at it. Even if it was one-sided. The cow lowered its head and he scratched it behind the ears. His fingers were hurting from the cold and touching the warm-blooded animal and the soft fur felt nice. “I wonder what your name is. Humans name dogs but do they name cows? I wonder what Mr. Anderson calls you. He’s not very friendly to me, which is understandable. I’m of no use to him.” He sighed. It was one thing to know he was useless, even to be told over and over again. But saying the words himself gave them an uncomfortable additional weight. “But he seems to be nice to his dog. I’ve heard that many humans like animals better than other humans. I hope he’s good to you.”

The cow’s only comment was to lick over his hand before it moved away from him. Scratches were nice but the heap of hay dangling in a net from the ceiling was more interesting right now.

“Enjoy your meal.” Connor bowed politely and went to the next cow. It was black and white and barely lifted its head to see who was disturbing its nap. He introduced himself once more and asked a few questions about the farm. He didn’t expect an answer, of course, but seeing ears twitch while he shared his musings softened his loneliness.

So he talked to all for animals. He enjoyed their presence more than he’d have thought and he began to understand humans a little more. He already liked these animals better than most humans he had encountered in his existence. He chewed on his lip. It wasn’t his place to think like this but he couldn’t help it anymore. If he had the choice and the skills, he wouldn’t object to working in the barns. They gave him enough capacities to learn and improve, he could learn how to care for animals, in theory. This didn’t change his physical build and that he wasn’t made for heavy duty.

He wished the fourth cow a good night and returned to the fifth box. Moving around and meeting the cows was interesting but it didn’t do much against the cold. The clothes wouldn’t dry on his body while he was staying in this barn. Connor loosened his tie and took it off. He quickly began to undress, glancing to the door several times until he had stripped naked. Nobody came and the cows didn’t care. He opened his suitcase. His fingers moved over his housekeeper uniform. His old one had been deemed beyond repair. This one was new and soft, the white fabric clean and the blue lines bright.

When he got into the train this morning, he had assumed he’d be wearing it by now and help his new owner around the house. Well, there was the hope of another tomorrow. For now, he’d have to get through the night.

The soft material snug to his skin and he felt a little warmer. The pieces of his suit were hanging over the bars of the box, hopefully, they’d be dry by tomorrow. After looking around, he found a chest holding several wool blankets. They were old and tiny pieces of straw were sticking between the stitches. He picked the one from the top. It smelled like old hay and cows but it’d do.

The mattress was thin and rough. Wishing he were as sturdy as the farm androids for the hundredth time within the last hour, he curled himself up and wrapped the blanket around him. It was scratchy but soon, he was less cold. Once he reassured himself he wouldn’t take damage from the low temperatures, he went into standby mode.

*

“You need a shower or something? Coffee?” Hank Anderson was an early bird, had always been. Farm life complimented this habit. Especially in fall and winter, the crisp morning ear cleared the remaining fog from his sleep better than a strong, steaming cup of coffee. Which tasted all the more delicious if enjoyed along with a rich breakfast once he came back from feeding the animals.

Those were the simple joys of a simple life and he hated his routine to be interrupted. So he glared at the figure sitting on the old bed in his cow barn.

“Don’t tell me you slept in that thing.” He wrinkled his nose. This guy was even wearing that damn tie again. Hell, if he loved something about living on a farm, it was that he never had to get close to a suit and a tie again. It wasn’t even past half six in the morning and he was already fed up with this business and that the android looked like an insurance salesman didn’t lighten his mood.

“I didn’t. I thought it’d be advisable to look as presentable as possible for my new owner.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Hank cut him off with a wave of his hand. Another reason why he enjoyed the presence of the cows and chickens - and Sumo of course - so much: They didn’t chew his ears off with their babbling.

“And I don’t need coffee, I don’t drink. A shower isn’t urgent as well. To answer your question,” the android added when Hank growled. Okay, fair, he had asked. Now he needed to find another reason to get him out of here.

“If you can’t help me here, you might as well go into the house. Pet the dog or something. Or do something about that hair. There’s a mirror in the corridor.” Hank almost grinned when the android reached for his hair. There had been an attempt to style it but the result was sabotaged by stray strands and pieces of hay and straw. “Get moving already! Wait in the kitchen. We’ll leave once I’m done here.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” The android stood up, suitcase in his hand. Hank wasn’t sure if he had seen this guy without carrying that thing. Really, from the way he was clinging to it, it might carry the crown jewels.

“You know how to hitch up a horse? No, of course, you don’t.” He sighed when the android looked to the ground and shook his head. “Get lost already, the girls are hungry.”

Finally, alone again. Or almost alone. Time to get to the more pleasant parts of this morning. The feeding bucket and hay fork were at their places in the empty box. He snorted. If things had for once gone like they were supposed to, the android would already have been at work. He paused to look at the bed. He had intended to throw it out for years and always forgot. After he decided to buy an android was better than hiring a human and having to deal with their attitude, he had thought of offering that android a bed would be a decent gesture. The item description mentioned the model of his choice didn’t need a place to lie down but damn, they looked too much like humans, putting them in a corner like a fork was creepy.

However, the model he wanted was tall, broad, with fitting facial features and practical clothes. At least on the pictures. Seeing that skinny android with those widened brown eyes and his suit waiting here for him like a lost puppy made Hank feel like the bad guy. Which was absurd, androids were tools, there were no roles like good or bad guys. Well, in less than two hours, this wouldn’t be his problem anymore.

*

“It’s interesting people here still use horse carriages. I haven’t seen one before. Usually, cars are the preferred means of transportation nowadays.”

“Yeah.” Hank sighed. Since they had left the farm, time seemed to drag on. Every time he told the android to shut up, the peace only lasted a few minutes until he excused himself, but there was just that one important question he had to ask to adapt to his new role efficiently.

“Town’s historical, many areas and buildings are under monument protection or nature conservation. Plastering asphalt roads everywhere isn’t allowed. Some of us have cars but in a weather like this, cars are less convenient than a cart, believe it or not. We either deal with it or move.” He had quickly discovered that the best way to shut the android up was talking over him. He hated holding lectures but it was a lesser evil than listening.

“As far as I’m aware, many humans appreciate a laid-back lifestyle and seek for less technology-heavy environments intentionally. I think, the movement is called back to the roots.”

“Dunno, don’t care. It works for me, that’s all that counts.” He stared straight ahead at the back of his mare who docilely trotted down the path, the mud not bothering her at all.

“If I may ask-”

“You know, why don’t you save your questions for your new owner? We wouldn’t want you to have nothing to talk about when we finally get there.”

“I-”

“Shut up, uh...”

“My name is Connor,” the android said, his voice quiet all of a sudden.

“Good for you. Now enjoy the scenery and leave me alone.”

Hank wasn’t sure which part of the last exchange it was that worked but finally, the android kept his questions to himself instead of bothering him. The timing was a bit of a shame, the scenery was indeed something to behold, in any other season than the last half of fall. He loved driving or riding past the meadows and the forest himself during spring and summer, and even winter after the first snow had fallen. But now, instead of colorful blossoms or the magic of snow, branches were hanging from their trees. The green had faded from leaves and grasses, and the brilliant reds and oranges from October had rotten into a grayish-brown mush. The clouded sky and constant rain weren’t helping.

There were no birds, no deer, no rustling in the bushes and trees to their right. This was a damn, dull day if there had ever been one. Christ, what was he even doing out here? He could be having breakfast in the kitchen right now, his feet shoved under Sumos warm belly, who was probably having a long nap by the fireplace while his master was out. He should have told the android to stay the fuck in the barn for the rest of the day and night. They were tools, dammit.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Anderson?” the android asked and Hank realized he was grumbling and muttering behind his beard.

“Just perfect.” Yeah, it was a curse that he treated his tools well and locking up a tool that was in great shape just because he didn’t need it felt wrong.

“We’re there, by the way. That’s your new home. Sunny Thistle Slope.” Hank flinched, clicking his tongue after saying the name. “I swear, only a sadist would come up with such a stupid name for a dumb farm.”

“What’s the name of the owner?” The android’s quiet tone was almost more unnerving than his chatter but Hank didn’t complain. In a few minutes, it wouldn’t matter anymore.

“Zlatko Andronikov. Can’t tell you much about him, we’re not close.” This was an understatement. He wasn’t close to anyone but he thought of most neighbors as annoying but harmless folks who he treated with indifference as long as they left him alone. Andronikov hadn’t done any harm Hank was aware of but he had dealt with too many men like him to not be suspicious of him. A prejudice, clearly, but screw it, he was old and retired, he could afford a few prejudices here and there.

“Just mind your manners around him and you’ll be fine,” he said, a piece of advice so bland and empty, it was rarely wrong. He tugged the reins and steered the horse into Sunny Thistle Slope’s driveway. Whatever he thought of Andronikov didn’t blind him for the splendor of this place. The house was so white it would gleam in the sun and the roof was so bright and red, it probably was renewed this year. Hank had no clue if Andronikov worked, he only knew he came from old money and that he owned some splendid horses. He had caught rumors of him breeding and dealing with horses but he didn’t care enough to investigate. Whatever the guy was doing, it was enough to keep a house that was easily twice the size of Hank’s and to keep in in a great condition.

“Well, here we are.” He jumped from the seat and went to knock at the door. A blond android in a black suit opened the door and asked them inside.

“See, you fit in perfectly,” he hissed to the android behind him. He didn’t answer. They sat down in the saloon that could easily host twenty people for a dance if the furniture were shoved aside. Everything oozed the smell of money. The wallpaper, the heavy armchairs, the sparkling chandelier. The fireplace was large enough to grill an ox. Well, a small ox, but still. Hank glanced at this Connor android. He was sitting in his chair with a straight back and pulled-back shoulders, legs tightly together and, of course, the suitcase on his lap. Poor chap, he looked as lost in this pompous hall as Hank felt. He respected the taste but it wasn’t his. He couldn’t wait to finally return to his modest home that got its charm from its imperfections.

“Hank Anderson! In my humble abode!” The master of the house arrived through a wide door. He looked nothing like his home with its rich, old-timey style. Andronikov looked more like someone Hank would meet at a bar in one of the big cities, where he wasted his good money on expensive drinks and drugs before he paid a hooker to drag him back to his small overpaid apartment in one of the hip districts. It wasn’t so much how he looked and dressed himself. His long black hair was tied in a neat ponytail, the full beard trimmed, the shirt that stretched over his stomach clean. Less the what he was wearing but the how.

“Thanks for being free this early in the morning.” Hank shook his hand and withstood the urge to wipe it off on his pants. That was the problem with this guy, he could be dressed in the most exquisite threads with a business haircut and be thirty pounds lighter, he’d still be just- sleazy.

“My pleasure. Neighbors help each other out, don’t they?” He fell in one large, red armchair, stretching his legs before he sat up to focus on the android. “So, that’s your little problem, right? Not bad. An RK800. Hey, stand up!”

The android stood up and Hank frowned. Something was off with him but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Put that down. On the chair,” Andronikov ordered and as told, the android put the suitcase down. Andronikov lifted himself from the chair, the wood groaning under him. Hank watched with unease when he grabbed the androids chin and turned it from one side to the other.

“Mr. Andronikov-”

“Please, it’s Zlatko for you,” he interrupted with a wide smirk on his face. “Beautiful, just beautiful. I didn’t know you’d bring me an RK800 when you called.”

“Why, what’s so special about him?” Hank asked almost reluctantly. He didn’t stop watching the android’s face.

“Let’s have a drink first. Daryl!” Zlatko barked the last word and right on cue, an android came through the same door Zlatko had entered. He was wearing a suit like the one who had let them in but it was a different model. He was carrying a tray with two whiskey tumblers.

“Thanks.” Hank took one when it was offered to him, taking a sip. That was the good stuff but still too early in the day, even for his standards. But if his host insisted it’d be impolite to turn the drink down. Zlatko had sat down again and emptied his glass in one go.

“Ah, that hit the spot.” He patted his chest and released a burp before he put the glass back on the tray. The android removed himself without making a noise. “A shame you aren’t into androids. They’re quite interesting creatures.” He appreciatively nodded at the android who was still standing in front of his chair. “The founder of Cyberlife designed two special editions of domestic assistants. You’ve probably seen the RT600 before. Blond, beautiful females.”

Hank nodded. He hadn’t known the label but he was sure Zlatko meant the pretty android woman who is so popular, she has become some kind of mascot.

“It’s said she’s designed after the founder’s taste. 100% self-indulgent. He created what he thought is the perfect woman. The RK800 is the male equivalent. The perfect man for those who’re into these looks. They’re quite rare, actually,” he held up a hand when Hank was about to talk. “Absolute collector items. If there was still a new one it’d be unfordable by now. You got lucky to get your hand on a second hand one. Or rather, I got lucky.”

Hank didn’t like Zlatko’s grin. He glanced at the android’s face. If he didn’t know it better he’d think he was looking uncomfortable.

“Well,” Hank said slowly, “it’s not like I don’t see his usefulness. I just don’t need one like him.”

“Different folks, different tastes. Of course, I’ll reimburse you so there’s no loss for you. No, I’ll even tip you if he’s in a top condition.”

“So, you definitely want to take him?”

Zlatko laughed, “I’m delighted to! Now, let’s determine his condition. Hey, RK, strip!” Again, his cheerful tone changed to a harsh bark as soon as he addressed the android.

“What?!” Hank almost dropped the glass he was still holding. The android turned his head and looked at him before he returned to stare past Zlatko.

“Hank, please!” Zlatko’s laugh reminded Hank of a sick goat. “You do know that the domestics come with more features than cooking and cleaning? Some are for daddy. I have to say, I’m flattered that the great founder of Cyberlife and I have similar tastes. You heard me, RK. Off with the clothes. Show off your beauty.”

This time, the android’s hand moved to his tie. Hank felt bad about staring but he couldn’t help it. This was the most most bizarre situation he had ever witnessed. The android’s slim fingers opened the knot of the tie. It glided to the floor and his hand moved to the top button of his dress shirt. That was when Hank noticed it was trembling. He looked at the android’s face and before he knew it, he was standing next to him.

“That’s enough!” Hank put his hand on his shoulder. He had no idea what would happen from here and maybe it was foolish to be worried about the modesty of a fucking android but everything in him refused to watch this sick display of power over a- tool. Hank glanced at again at the android’s face. He was staring at the floor, the hand still at the button. And finally, it hit him. He wasn’t talking. He had been silent since they had been asked inside, didn’t even introduce himself to Zlatko. If Hank pretended for one second this guy was an actual human, he’d say he was petrified.

“Hank, come on! It’s just an android.” Zlatko shook his head as if he was scolding a child. “It’s cute when they come with some kind of prudery mods. Makes it all the more fun to break them in. And it’s all legal!”

“I don’t think-”

“Daryl! Baby! Get your asses in here!” At Zlatko’s order, the android who brought the drinks returned, in company with a female android from the RT series Zlatko talked about before. Zlatko clicked his tongue twice and snapped his fingers.

“As you wish, master,” they replied in unison and within a minute, their clothes landed on the floor. They walked up to Zlatko and knelt down by his side, the man to his right, the woman to his left.

“See? Easy as that.” He put his hand under the male android’s chin and lifted his head. Then, he slapped him. “That’s for not refilling my drink! We’ll talk about that later!”

“I’m sorry.”

A shudder ran down Hank’s spine. He certainly wasn’t a prude and he knew how to enjoy a naughty game or two but the android’s hollow voice gave him goosebumps. Suddenly, he wished he could hear his android talk again, with his weird chipper voice that would jump to urgent and intense from one moment to the other. But the android remained silent as he slowly backed away, half hiding behind Hank.

“You better be. See? They aren’t hurt. They don’t hold grudges. They can be tools but also toys. They do everything their owner wants. Come, while it’s still yours, tell it to undress so we can determine the price I owe-”

“I’m sorry,” this time, Hank interrupted Zlatko, “Forgot to feed the dog. We gotta go.”

“But-”

Hank waited long enough to enjoy the satisfaction of Andronikov’s smug face turning into a flabbergasted grimace before he turned around.

“We have nothing to discuss. Connor, come! Unless you want to stay here!” He grabbed Connor, who had just enough time to grab his suitcase, by the arm. Dragging the android along, Hank stormed out of the villa.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank makes up his mind but nevertheless, Connor is on his own for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter but the end just felt natural. More next time, maybe? No promises! I'm just glad I got half of this written before a short unexpected hospital stay (nothing too dramatic) and next week is gonna be busy, plus new meds that make me tired and dizzy, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to write & post chapter four. So I can only guarantee a new chapter of Menschmaschine next week. We'll see when I'll have time for this quilty pleasure project :')
> 
> But there's always time to thank you for the comments! Thanks you all so much for reading and taking the time to comment :D

They drove in silence for a while. The wind had picked up while they were inside Zlatko’s home and despite it now being close to noon, it was colder than before. It was raining and the raindrops felt like tiny knives cutting Hank’s face. Screw the rural village romantic, on days like this, he wished he still had his car. Or at least thought of putting on his rain gear.

He glanced at the android as if blaming him for this messed up morning would bring him to a nice, warm fire any sooner. The android didn’t notice the glare. He was staring ahead with a confused expression. He didn’t look as terrified as he did when Zlatko leered at him but there was still fear in his face. Hank sneered and clicked his tongue to urge on the horse who was already doing her best to get them safely home.

“What’s going to happen to me now?” the android said flatly when they reached a crossing that’d either lead them back to Rooster Manor, or the train station.

“Well, you don’t want to get destroyed, and you don’t want to become that pervert’s plaything. Your running out of options.” In the depths of his heart, Hank knew he also didn’t want these fates for this boy. Android. Connor. That he had pushed him back onto the cart and got off Zlatko’s property so fast as if the devil himself was after them could be seen as proof. Hell, that he had bothered to find a solution and drove out here in the first place spoke for itself. But he’d rather bite off his tongue and stick a hot needle in his brain before he admitted that to anyone, himself included.

“Not that I blame you,” he muttered after a pause and regretted it almost immediately when the android inhaled sharply.

“Mr. Anderson, do you really don’t see any way I could stay with you? I like your farm. The house only needs a little bit of work and it’ll look beautiful. I can do that. I can also cook for you, sew, have a program for basic interior design, and I’m capable of learning new tasks quickly if taught. I can even take care of… your dog when you’re busy in the barns! Please, Mr. Anderson, think about it. You said yourself I’m just a tool. You wouldn’t give your tractor away to be destroyed just because it doesn’t look like a screwdriver, right? It’d still be useful, just in other ways.”

“Holy fuck, okay, okay, but just shut up for a darn second, will you?” Hank gasped for air after drowning in this current of words. “If you want to stay, first drop this Mr. Anderson bullshit, it’s Hank!”

“Hank. Got it!”

“And you have to learn to get along with Sumo!” Hank quickly added, not risking that the android might take a short pause as an invitation to fill the silence with more blabbering.

“I can handle a dog,” the android replied, less enthusiastically, though.

_Don_ _’t think I don’t notice that!_ Geez, this guy should never play poker. He was easier to read than a picture book.

“You better do. Sumo’s the best company a man can have, it’s his home, and I won’t fuck with his life just because a maid android’s scared of dogs.”

“Mr. Anders- Hank. I told you, I’m not scared of dogs. As an android, I’m not capable of feeling emotions and-”

“And that’s why you freaked out in front of Andronikov. Especially when he wanted to see you naked. Yeah, right.” Hank sneered, looking at the android’s face directly for the first time- since when? Since they left Zlatko? Since they left Rooster Manor? Had he actually really looked at him at all since yesterday? He couldn’t tell.

What he could tell, however, was that the android didn’t like his remark at all.

“I can’t be afraid,” he insisted, his eyes telling another story.

“So what was it, then? Do special editions as you come with a personality program that turns on scum with god complexes and a rape fetish?”

The android closed his mouth and turned away but he didn’t reply. Hank sighed. What was he even doing, if he was honest, he had decided to take the android as far away as possible from Zlatko even before that asshole had revealed his sick side. After what he had seen, Hank wouldn’t pass a broken bucket down to him even if he was offered a million. Didn’t mean Hank liked the idea of keeping an android as his housekeeper but he prided himself as a man who always did the right thing - or what he thought to be right - whether he liked it or not.

“Sorry, went too far,” he growled reluctantly. He was sorry but he hated to admit it.

“You are my owner, you can say to me what you want. I don’t take offense.” The android spoke calmly and Hank almost believed him. Offending, that wasn’t something he had a problem with. Hell, in the hardest times of his life, offending when offense was due was one of the few things that helped him feel alive.

“Maybe not. But doesn’t matter if we’re talking about a tractor, a screwdriver, or whatever you really are. You don’t treat a tool with care and respect, it breaks. And then it hurts you in return.” It’d take this Connor a lot more to convince Hank his words didn’t hurt him but he wouldn’t push it for now. All he wanted was to get home and get some peace and quiet while he took care of Stella, and then with Sumo. Damn, had he thought of feeding the chickens? Now, he’d be in for some mayhem when they arrived if he really forgot.

“You care about me?”

“Oh, fuck it!” Hank could hear the hopeful smile without having to look at his face. “You know what I mean. But if you want to compare yourself to a screwdriver, by all means, be my guest. And now shut up. And that’s the last rule.” He the android the fiercest scowl he could when it was intentional. “When I tell you to shut up, you shut up. No, don’t say anything!” He pressed a finger against the android’s mouth. “No got it, no understood, not even okay until we’re back home. Good.” He removed his finger when the android nodded, already fearing he made a mistake when he didn’t set the time to until spring.

*

The weather had developed into a wet and cold storm by the time they arrived at Rooster Manor. They were soaked before Hank had a chance to unbridle the horse. He brushed Connor’s offer to help him off with a grunt.

“Don’t stay in the way and get inside! Before you catch rust or something!”

“Actually, we barely contain metal as it is,” Connor explained, shivering in the rain. “Some of our inner components are alloys and those are rust-free to guarantee-”

“Shut it and go inside, Connor!” Hank bellowed over his shoulder, loosening a final strap and finally, led the horse away from the carriage and towards its barn. Connor pressed his jaws together and follow them.

“Hey, hey, where do you think you’re going?” Hank called after him. He had reached the horse barn and was about to unlock the door while Connor kept walking.

“The cow barn, of course.” Connor pointed at the building where he slept the night before. “I assumed I await your orders in the spot you assigned to me. Also, I’d like to change my clothes.”

“Yeah, right,” Hank mumbled, then he shook his head. “No, that’s bullshit. Go inside the house and wait for me in the kitchen. Fire should still be burning. We’ll talk in a moment!”

“I can rekindle the fire if you wish.”

“Knock yourself out if that’s what it takes to get you moving. I’ll be with you once I got Stella dry and fed.”

“Understood.”

Holding his wet shoes and socks in his hand, Connor went inside. As soon as he was out of the wind and rain, he relaxed a little. There were still many things unsolved and everything about his future depended on Hank’s decisions. He didn’t force him to stay with this Andronikov person and for that, Connor would be forever grateful. All the time they had been there, Connor felt like he was caught in an old nightmare and there was no way out. He didn’t know what he’d have done if Hank hadn’t grabbed him and dragged him outside. There was kindness in this farmer. It might be deeply hidden under layers of crankiness and contempt but only a glimpse of it was enough to save Connor’s life.

Connor looked for a shoe rack and put his shoes down on the floor by the wardrobe when he didn’t find one. But what would happen now? Would he stay? Or would Hank try to find another owner? Or would he send him back to Cyberlife after all? Hank had given him the rules Connor had to follow if he stayed with him but that didn’t have to mean he was staying for good but for the time being.

He peeked into the kitchen and when he didn’t see the dog, he stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind him. The tiles under his feet were a lot colder than the wooden floor of the corridor but there was indeed a weak fire eating away the last bits of wood and coal under the stove. Connor found the coal bucket and knelt down by the fire, quickly feeding it until it grew to a merry flame that warmed his face and hands. Soon, the warmth filled the whole kitchen and Connor retreated to the same chair he had occupied yesterday.

The fire didn’t do much to dry the clothes on his body but he was getting a bit more comfortable. At least, his body temperature wouldn’t drop any further.

Alas, he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the comfort of a good fire. Through the door that connected the kitchen with the living room, Hank’s dog trotted inside. It steered directly for the fire but halted and sniffed when it registered Connor’s presence. The finer muscles in Connor’s face twitched. He survived the encounter yesterday but this time, Hank wasn’t only a few steps away and it might take a while until he was done with the horse. Connor was on his own.

The dog turned around and moved in his direction. The chair screeched as Connor pushed it against the wall behind him.

The dog, unaware he wasn’t welcome, put his head on Connor’s lap.

“He-hello. Sumo. Right?” Connor breathed between gasps. Hearing its name, the dog grunted and looked at Connor with big, expecting eyes. Connor lifted a hand, not sure what he intended to do, whether he wanted to push the dog away or to put it between them to signal he wanted some distance. But what if touching it, or moving at all, only aggravated it?

The dog let out a low whine and stretched his neck until his nose touched Connor’s palm.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Connor’s head jerked around. Hank was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and a grin on his face.

“If you ever want to move your legs again, you better pet him already.”

“I’m not sure if this is a good idea. I’m a stranger to him and… and…” He couldn’t think of another excuse and as to be expected, Hank wasn’t having it. He rolled his eyes but also chuckled.

“He’s just an oversized puppy. And that he doesn’t know you is a plus in his eyes. Means he has a fresh chance to train someone to spoil him with treats and belly pats. Just do it and be done with it.”

Connor stared at the dog, unsure what to do. This might be a trap designed to get him mauled by the dog for the owner’s amusement but Hank didn’t seem the type. And if Connor wanted to stay here, he had to learn how to handle this dog. But what if…

“If he attacks, will you stop him?”

Hank snorted with far less patience.

“If he attacks you I’ll stop him, skin him, eat him for dinner, and sew you a dress from his hide. Christ, did you hear that, Sumo? Cyberlife used all their techno wizardry to create a wimp who can’t handle a single dog! And yet, he thinks he can stay and help on a farm.”

Connor swallowed. The insult didn’t hit him but he was well aware of the underlying threat in Hank’s words. On the other hand, there was a faint chance of them also being the promise of a new home if he did as he was told. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, recalling Andronikov’s saloon, the greedy eyes wandering over his body, the slick voice ordering him to undress.

He had been saved from that to do what, pet a dog? He was being ridiculous. This was nothing compared to what he had to expect if Hank hadn’t taken him back with him.

He opened his eyes again and slowly moved his hand towards the dog’s head.

“Okay, Sumo. I’m a friend. I won’t harm you.” He put his hand on Sumo’s head. Nothing happened. The dog held perfectly still. Hank watched them but didn’t say anything.

Connor moved his hand carefully, squirming when the dog suddenly wagged its tail. He released his breath. This was what dogs do. A harmless gesture expressing joy. Connor knew that.

“Scratch him behind his ears. He likes that.”

Connor nodded and did as he was told, his eyes never moving away from Sumo’s. The fur behind the ears was soft and he sensed the warmth coming from the dog’s skin underneath. It had to be nice to be protected from the cold by a thick, warm natural coat like that. He let his fingers tangle with the fur. The dog made a noise that sounded like a heavy sigh and its head seemed to become heavier.

“See? You’re his new best friend now.” Hank was laughing as he moved through the kitchen to sit down on one of the other chairs.

“He’s really…” Connor’s voice trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. Harmless? So soft? Not scary?

“Nothing to be afraid of,” Hank finished the sentence for him and Connor didn’t correct him.

“I think I can handle him,” Connor said, feeling more secure in his promise as he did before.

“Maybe not handle but as long as don’t find you standing on the table trembling like jello during an earthquake, I won’t complain.”

Connor looked up at him, almost forgetting that he was petting the largest dog he has ever seen right now.

“I can really stay, can I?”

“If it means so much to you, yeah. Stay, for what it’s worth. Just don’t try to get in my way. And don’t get on my nerves with your speeches. I moved here to enjoy the quietness of the countryside.” Hank got up and moved to the fridge. Sumo perked up when he opened it but put down his head again when Hank only removed a beer can.

“Where did you live before?”

“Detroit. And no, I’m not gonna tell you the story of my life now.” Hank cracked the beer open and gulped down half of it.

“Hank, it’s half past noon, it’s not recommended to drink this early in the day.”

Hank snorted, “What did I just tell you about not getting on my nerves?”

“Sorry.” Connor looked down on his lap only to realize Sumo was still there, watching him with his big eyes, his tongue hanging out. Still being in his now damp clothes, he hadn’t noticed the dog was drooling on him.

“So, what’s it with you and temperatures?” Hank asked and Connor forced himself to relax despite beginning to feel uncomfortable and stiff.

“Nothing.”

“Remind me to play poker against you some day. But until then, I’d appreciate it if you stopped lying when I ask you a question.” Hank’s tone got harsher. “I saw you took one of the old blankets. Even folded that damn thing neatly on the bed. Doubt scratchy covers stinking of cow fall under domestic prettiness or whatever you’d call it. Only logical conclusion: You were cold. The model I ordered was described as cold and heat resistant as long as I don’t put it in the freezer or a volcano. So?”

Connor sighed. Suddenly, he was glad to have his hands busy with Sumo’s fur. It gave him something to focus on.

“Outdoor models are more resilient. I’m designed for indoor purposes, this includes to work closely with humans. As a home assistant, babysitter, tutor, playmate for children, and…” He stopped.

“And for things Andronikov not too subtly implied. A playmate for the adults as well.”

“Yes. That as well. For these purposes, the chassis of any domestic model is less sturdy than of the heavy duty androids. It’s thinner, more flexible, and the skin is softer. I don’t feel different than any human. This comes at a cost. I’m physically weaker and my ability to regulate the body temperature is limited. Thirium - this is our blood - is affected by low temperatures. It thickens, then it begins to freeze, which would ultimately mean I’d stop functioning.” He didn’t dare to look at Hank. It wasn’t easy to admit his shortcomings, especially when his fate depended on it. Yes, Hank had said he could stay but he could still change his mind.

“So you can freeze to death? And you didn’t say a word when I told you to sleep in that fucking barn in fucking November?” Hank raised his voice but not in anger. More in surprise and Connor thought he even caught a hint of concern.

“It wasn’t bad. It was dry and I found the blanket. I wasn’t in danger.”

“Not in danger, but you are an idiot. And you’re still sitting in your wet suit.” Hank growled a series of curses as he put his beer down and took a box with dry dog food from the shelf. At the sound, Sumo forgot all about his new friend and seconds later, his nose disappeared in his bowl.

“Come.” Hank gestured Connor to go with him. Connor hurried to stand up and followed Hank into the corridor. “So, you mentioned a uniform earlier. This means, you have more clothes?” He nodded at the suitcase Connor was still carrying.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Okay, never call me Sir again. Okay, I was already wondering what you have in that thing.”

“Everything I own,” Connor said was a proud smile as he followed Hank up the stairs.

“Can’t be much if it fits into this small thing.”

“But it is! Most models come with only their uniform. You have to buy any extra outfits and replacements. I come with my work uniform and this suit!”

Hank squinted at him once they reached the first floor. “That’s an odd thing to be proud of.”

“I don’t think so. It’s very practical. It allows me to make a good impression and I can attend formal events if my owner wishes for it.”

“Ha! Don’t worry, I stay away from anything formal as far as possible! What’s wrong now?” Hank asked.

“My tie!” Connor’s fingers rested on his collarbone. The first button was still open and indeed, the tie was missing. “I must have left it at Andronikov’s house!”

Hank laughed and snorted at the same time which turned into a cough.

“Fuck, and I thought it was something serious. You looked for a moment like somebody shot your horse while you were sitting on it!” Hank wheezed but recovered quickly. “I tell you one thing, I’m not going back to that asshole to recover your damn tie. And neither will you! Hell knows where that sicko had put it by now.”

“Thank you, I guess.” Connor was partly relieved. He wouldn’t have wanted to go back himself and he would never demand that Hank would handle the consequences of Connor’s own thoughtlessness. Yet, the tie was an important part of his suit and now it was gone. Less than twenty-four hours with his new owner and he already was less complete.

“Don’t worry about it, ties are useless. Most of the time.” Hank chuckled when Connor asked what he meant. Then he looked at Connor with a thoughtful expression.

“Have you ever, you know…” He waved his hand in an undefined gesture.

“I don’t know? Have I ever what?” Connor tilted his head, trying to make sense of the question.

“Never mind. I don’t really want to know. Here, this is more important.” Hank waved him over to one of the doors.

“It’s not much. Just the guest room.” He shrugged as he opened the door and let Connor step inside. “And it probably needs a damn good dusting but it’s sure better than the damn barn.”

Connor stared at the small room, mouth partly open. It had a quaint little window looking east, with old-fashioned curtains that needed a thorough airing but otherwise, they were still in a good shape. Several moving boxes cluttered the floor but there was enough space for a wardrobe, a desk and chair, and a bed. It had a carved frame and the white frame was only slightly chipped at the legs.

The mattress was thick and barely bounced when Connor put his suitcase on it. A thin layer of dust had settled on the naked pillow and the folded duvet but that, too, was nothing that could be easily fixed by giving them a good shake outside the window.

“I can stay here? Really?”

“If you want to. I’m gonna get you fresh sheets once I got into dry clothes myself. Also gonna move the boxes to the attic. Wanted to do that years ago anyway. It’s not the grand hotel but yeah, I didn’t really expect anyone staying here.”

“Thank you, Hank. It’s amazing! This is-” Connor barely listened as he looked around again and again. Living in a real room, with a bed and everything. A little dust didn’t bother him, in fact, he was looking forward to cleaning this place. It would even feel more like his after he put some work into it.

“It’s perfect for me,” he finally closed his sentence.

“Whoa, take it slow with these smiles. And now get changed before you get a cold. Or whatever you guys get. Meet me downstairs when you’re done.” Hank turned around and hastened out of the room.

“Hank!” Connor dashed after him before Hank could shut the door.

“What is it now? The bathroom is at the end of the corridor. Just put the wet clothes there.” Hank pressed against the door without looking at Connor. His cheeks were flushed and Connor stepped back. He didn’t want to anger him after Hank, who didn’t really want him here, gave him a whole room.

“No, I just wanted to know where I can find a broom.”

“Oh. I’ll get it and leave it in front of your door with the sheets. Okay?” Hank didn’t wait for an answer. He quickly closed the door and walked away. But Connor still heard him chuckle as he cursed the damn android.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, things are getting easier until they don't. At least we know Hank has a good heart. Too bad it isn't connected to his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a quick concept for this chapter, or what was intended to be covered by this whole chapter. Well... now it covers about half of it. That's why I don't really like planning stories beforehand. How do people plan pacing? How do you guys do that? What or whom do I have to sacrifice to do that? Seriously, I admire people who can plan a full story, down to chapters and scenes, before writing the first line. That's amazing! 
> 
> Healthwise, I'm doing fine. Got used to the meds. Got a good prognosis from my doc who is positive I'll be off of the meds in a few months if I live a bit healthier. Well, reducing fat and sugar and going from 80% carbs to maybe 40%, all no problem. But damn, cutting down on salt is harder than I expected TT_TT But if that's all I need to get used to, I consider myself lucky. 
> 
> Thank you all for the well wishes! I really love this fandom, you people are full of kindness ♥

“Hank?” Connor found him in the kitchen, the face hidden behind a newspaper, one hand around a cup of coffee. An empty plate with a few scattered crumbs of bread had been shoved to the middle of the table.

“Hank!” Connor put down the water bucket and leaned the mop against the wall. He picked up the plate and moved to the sink, turning on the water.

“Hm?” Hank grunted from behind the paper, eyes glued to the article he was reading.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to eat? I would have prepared dinner before cleaning the guest room!” He quickly scrubbed the plate and the knife he had found in the sink.

“Told you before, ain’t needing a maid. I can fix breakfast just fine on my own.” Hank sipped from his coffee, almost emptying the mug. Connor spotted the pot under the coffee maker and hastened to give Hank a refill. Steam rose from the mug and the scent of fresh coffee filled the kitchen.  
Hank groaned and put down the paper.

“Please, stop this, for fuck’s sake! I’m not so old I need some spring chicken to wait on me and-” He stopped, his jaws open as he finally looked at Connor. The lines on his forehead deepened until the frown overshadowed his eyes.

“Is everything all right?” Connor put the coffee pot away and grabbed a dish towel, twisting it between his hands.  
Hank shook his head, the first noise coming from his throat being a grunt before he finally said, “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“My uniform.” Connor blinked and looked down at him, fearing he had already managed to spoil his clothes but not one single speck of dust tainted the impeccable white. He raised his head, “Why?”

“You’re not gonna wear this around here.” Hank grabbed the newspaper and dived behind it, leaving Connor lost and confused. He stroked over the soft fabric of the white and blue shirt. It was clean, it fitted, it was neither revealing nor sloppy. The markings to identify him as an android were all in its place. Connor considered himself lucky that he had received a brand-new set of the strictly limited RK800 uniform, not a repaired one or a similar one for another model.

“I don’t understand. What’s wrong with it?”

Hank grunted and folded the paper before putting it down. “First off, this is a farm, not a fucking hospital. Three minutes with Sumo and it’ll look like shit. But most importantly, I can’t stand uniforms. I don’t want them around here. I put up with that suit of yours because of the occasion but I won’t have anyone running around my place looking like a Cyberlife snob. Get into something casual or stay out of my sight.”

Connor stared at his shoes, the words drumming down on him like hail on a tin roof. He understood part of Hank’s reasoning. Even his shoes were white with a bright blue line running around them. When he and his clothes had been designed, his creator probably had a loft in the better parts of the city in mind, not a farm in the countryside. He couldn’t go to the mailbox without ruining his shoes and probably his pants, especially not in this weather.

But there was more and it wasn’t in Hank’s words but his tone. When Connor had been returned to Cyberlife, he had nothing but the shreds on his body that used to be his uniform. When he left, the clothes given to him were his. He had even been asked what he wanted to wear on his journey to his new owner, uniform or suit. It had been a test to see if he’d make the appropriate pick but nevertheless, it had been his choice. He lacked the words to describe how he felt about them, but to him, his clothes meant more than something designed to mark him as a household tool. And now, Hank had dismissed everything with a sneer.

“I only have this and the suit,” he muttered under his breath, crossing his arms. “If you insist, I’ll go upstairs and change into the suit.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, his face unreadable behind the coffee mug. He drank slowly, his blue eyes staring at him as if they wanted to drill through his body. Finally, after another moment of silence, he put down the coffee and shook his head.

“That’s almost worse. And that thing’s probably still wet anyway.” Hank shoved his chair back and stood up. “Washing machine’s outside. Go through the backdoor, to your right is a shed. Wouldn’t allow me to install the necessary plumbing inside. Got lucky they allowed hot water and a toilet, stupid protection authority… Sumo! Walk!” The dog shot through the door from the living room, pressing his large body against Hank’s legs, his tongue sticking out.

“Where are you going?” Connor followed them as Hank and Sumo went to the backdoor.

“Got work to do.”

“Can I help you?”

Hank turned around, a mocking smirk on his face as he looked at him from head to toe.

“Yeah. Stay out of my way, don’t follow me anywhere where that precious uniform of yours could get dirty and we should be fine. Clean something or whatever it is you do.” Hank dismissed him with a wave of his hand and walked outside, his dog on his heels.

Connor sighed. The exchange dampened his euphoria of having a new home. This was going to be harder than expected but there wasn’t much he could do to make Hank appreciate him if Hank didn’t let him.

Well, at least he had been giving permission to clean. He shoved up his sleeves. First, the kitchen and he also remembered Hank telling him where the bathroom was.

*

The afternoon passed and evening came quietly. Connor greeted Hank with a smile when he returned.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d come home so I already prepared dinner. I only have to reheat the soup and get the rest out of the fridge.” Connor put the mop aside. Kitchen and bathroom had kept him busy for a while and he had just finished the corridor.

“Sure.” Hank didn’t meet his eye. He took off his jacket and put it on the hook himself when Connor reached out to unburden him from it. “Feed the dog, will ya.”

“Yes, of course.”

Hank replied with a grunt and walked up the stairs. Connor looked after him. The cold air had reddened Hank’s cheek and half of his ponytail had come undone, turning the gray hair into a wild mess. If the November wind had a face, it’d look like Hank, Connor thought. Wild, distant, and grim. It’d be so becoming if Hank smiled more but Connor had yet to figure out what he had to do so they’d get along better.

He looked down when something heavy leaned against his legs and took a quick step back, holding his breath. Sumo. Connor exhaled. He was half convinced this dog didn’t pose any danger to him but it would take him a while to get used to him.

“Feed you, right.” He turned around to go to the kitchen, the squishy sound of paws behind him. Squishy? He took a look at the dog and sighed. Sumo was covered in mud up to his belly, his tail wagging happily as he left paw prints of the size of a human hand on the freshly cleaned floor. His master wasn’t any better. Dirty prints of Hank’s boots followed his path from the door to the coatrack and from there to the stairs and the first floor. Which Connor had wiped just before he had started cooking.

Well, it gave him something to do while Hank and Sumo were having dinner.

“You got ants in your pants?” Hank sputtered while chewing on a bite of the ham and cheese sandwich Connor had prepared for him.

“Excuse me?” Connor had just returned to the kitchen to put the bucket and mop away. He was surprised Hank noticed him at all. Since he came back from work, he hadn’t looked at Connor once.

“If your mouth stands still for once, your legs don’t stop twitching.” Hank took another bite. The scene resembled the late breakfast. Hank ate and drunk, squinting at the newspaper. Connor wanted to ask if he always read the paper twice and if he should get him something else to read. But Hank was too unapproachable and Connor didn’t want to do anything that’d worsen his mood further.

“The floors and stairs are clean. I’m finished now. All there’s left to do is cleaning the dishes once you’re done eating. Do you want me to wait here or in my room until then?” Connor quickly washed his hands and dried them on a damp dish towel. It was the last clean one. The others hadn’t been washed in a while and were now drying in the shed after a long, good round in the washer.

“I’ll take care of that myself, thank you very much.” Hank shoved the last bit of the sandwich in his mouth, cleaning his fingers on his pants. Then, he put the paper down and lifted his head, facing Connor with a pained expression. “Is this how it’s going to be now? Do I have to tell you every step you do? Can’t you do anything on your own?”

“I- of course. I mean, yes, I can do things on my own.” Connor wiped his dry hands on his uniform. “I still need to adjust to your daily schedule to organize my tasks. This requires learning your habits. I could observe you, of course. I just thought asking you is a faster way to learn.” His voice faded out flatly towards the end; Hank scowled again as if Connor had said something stupid.

“Listen, boy, I don’t want you to wait on me. I thought I had made myself clear on that.” Hank rolled his eyes as he folded the paper with aggressive vigor. Connor backed away from him, bumping into the counter behind him.

“What now? You afraid I’m gonna hit you or something?”

“I’m not afraid,” Connor shot back, then lowered his head. “As my owner, it is your decision how you handle my failures. I’m not afraid of the consequences, I know and accept that sometimes, humans have to-”

“Holy shit, will you shut up?” Hank slammed his flat hand on the table. The spoon clinked in the soup bowl, the empty beer can fell over. “Quit this owner shit already! And no, I’m not gonna hit you! What do you think I am, a monster? All I want is some peace and quiet after a hard day in the fucking cold. If you really want to make my life easier, get off my ass already and just… just…” he waved his hand in circles, “Just don’t act like a puppy who peed on the carpet. Can’t stand pleasers.”

With that, Hank stood up, took the empty dishes and dumped them into the sink.

“And don’t you dare to touch them!” he barked and stomped into the living room, throwing the door shut behind him. Connor’s hands were clinging to the edge of the counter behind him. He stared at the closed door. The clock on the wall was ticking. From behind the door, the TV was running. He heard Hank’s voice but the only word he caught was Sumo.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly and looked at the dirty dishes. “What did I do wrong?”

*

The next morning, a stinging pain shot through Hank’s back when he woke up and stretched. “Fuck.” He sat up in his bed and felt the lower end of his spine. No matter how hard he denied it, he was getting on in years. But he was generally fit for his age and his back had no reason to be pissed at him like this. He sighed and grabbed for his dressing gown when he stood up. And that was exactly why he caved in and ordered an android. To help him on the farm, share some heavy lifting, especially in the cold season.

And what did he end up with? A scary cat of a bootlicker, thank you very much. Another reason why he had warmed up to the idea of buying an android was how they were supposed to be indifferent towards emotions. Clever machines, not more, not less. He could have hired a helper over the fall and winter but then he’d have to watch his temper.

He scowled at his reflection while brushing his teeth. Yeah, he was experienced in scaring weaker characters shitless with his glares. Once, he was proud of it, nowadays it was convenient. But then this boy toy had to come along and make him feel guilty for wanting to stay an independent man. Yeah, yeah, he was sorry. He growled at his disapproving mirror image after rinsing. He had made his bed, now he had to lie in it. A Hank Anderson saw through his commitments and as he had told Connor he could stay, he’d bear the consequences.

“Don’t gimme that look!” He tapped the toothbrush against the mirror. “The kid’s not the only one who needs to adjust, okay? What would you do if, out of the blue, a young man knocked at your door and acted like you can’t even butter your bread on your own? Hell, I didn’t even sign up for a roommate!” He threw the toothbrush in its mug and turned off the water. “But okay, okay.” He held up his hands in defeat as he moved on to the shower. “I’ll figure something out. Without making that kid cry, promised.”

Twenty minutes later, clean and dressed, he was on his way to the kitchen. Funny, how what used to be a peaceful sanctuary had turned into the birthplace of chaos in such a short time. He paused to slip into his rubber boots. That was when he noticed the smell. Bacon. Coffee. Toast. Damn, now his mouth was watering. He sighed and opened the kitchen door. Time to snub Connor again.

“Hey, Sumo!” Hank greeted his dog who barely lifted his head from his dish. Hank smiled weakly. Yeah, such was the loyalty of a dog. One bowl at a time. “Hey. Connor.” He forced himself to speak casually but if the words came out any thicker with tension, he would be able to chew on them.

“Good morning, Hank.” Connor looked up for a second but quickly focused on the pan again. Two stripes of bacon were sizzling in their own grease, the edges already nice and crispy. “Coffee is already done. I’ll get you so- I mean, it’s ready whenever you want to have some.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Hank carefully moved around the android. He was again wearing this darn uniform. Hank couldn’t say for sure why he hated it so much. He hadn’t minded them when he was young but over the last decade or so, he had grown to dislike them, mostly for himself. He’d never given much of a fuck about what other people were wearing. He had been getting away with casual clothes and that was what counted. Yet, there was something about this white and blue uniform that annoyed him when he just glanced at it. Maybe he was really being a nutcase about not being twenty anymore that anything that somewhat looked like a nurse in his home ground his gears. But that wasn’t the whole story, there was something else that bothered him but for now, it was only a vague feeling, nothing he could put in words.

Well, that had time until later. It was too early to go all Freud on his own ass, especially when there was fresh coffee waiting. With a steaming, hot mug in his hands, he sat down. The newspaper was on the table, as were an empty plate and a small basket holding three slices of toast. Wait, since when did he have a bread basket? He took a closer look. Certainly, nothing he had brought with them but also not new. Probably one of the knick-knacks the previous owner had left in one of the corners of the pantry in the basement.  
That damn room was spacious enough to function as another bedroom, if it weren’t so cold down there all the year around. When he had moved in, he only checked it for spoiled food and dead rats, promising himself he’d toss out the old junk once fall cooled down the temperatures. Then when it wouldn’t be like a walk-in freezer in spring. Then he forgot about it.

“Uh, want some?”

Connor was standing next to him, holding the hot pan. Hank got a generous whiff of perfectly fried bacon.

“Sure.” Yes, again, the android did a task Hank was fully capable to do on his own but he appreciated being asked. He held up the plate and watched Connor as he filled it. Today, it was the android who avoided Hank’s eyes.

“Thanks.” Hank almost laughed at himself. There went his morning routine. Instead of telling this guy he wouldn’t eat before the animals had their breakfast, he had folded like a card house in a thunderstorm and all it took was the irresistible smell of fried pork in the morning. He glanced at his dog who had just licked his bowl clean and finished his meal with a hearty yawn. Looked like there was something to what folks liked to say, dogs and their owner became alike over the years.

“Wanna sit down?” He nodded at the empty chair on the other side of the table. Connor had put the pan in the sink and cleaned the stove while Hank had helped himself to bread and butter. It was cold, it’d be another long day, doctors could shove it with their cholesterol warnings.

“I thought I’d go upstairs until you’re done. And clean up once you’re gone to work.” Connor avoided looking at Hank when he squinted at him.

“Suit yourself.” Some of the old irritation returned and he took a hefty bite from his toast, scattering crumbs all over his beard and plate. Breakfast was nice but if somebody cooked for him, he’d do the damn dishes himself. Hell, he’d rather eat plate and pan before he’d become one of those stuffy snobs who unlearned how to wipe their own asses because they left everything to their maids.

“Oh, and, I’m sorry, this probably sounds silly.”

Hank sighed. If a scary cat and a kicked puppy could have an offspring, it’d be this guy.

“Out with it,” he said, harsher than intended. He could deal with smug. He could deal with aggressive. Angry, arrogant. All fine. But comforting a nervous adult man? Adult android man? God, life would have been so much easier if Cyberlife hadn’t fucked up his order.

“I wanted to make eggs but there weren’t any, neither in the fridge nor the pantry. If… if you want me to shop for groceries, I’d put them on the list.”

“Oh.” Maybe having a housekeeper wasn’t the worst thing. Delegating the unpleasant task of driving into town, that was tempting. “I’ll think about that. But why is that silly? Fuck, Connor, I’m not gonna rip off your head. Or hit you. And no, I won’t kick you out. Calm down already!” Gentle like a bulldozer. Hank was getting more angry at himself than the bundle of nerves in front of him.

“Oh, I’m calm.”

Now Hank’s anger was split fifty-fifty between himself and this lying bundle of nerves in front of him. What was the deal with this guy? He was more jittery than that android from the general store and that is saying something.

“You have chickens,” Connor finally said and Hank bit back a laugh. “I was surprised there weren’t eggs but I know it’s not my place to comment on the situation of your poultry.”

Now Hank laughed, almost spilling his coffee. “Boy, wondering if my hens are too old to lay eggs won’t offend me. I just forgot to bring yesterday’s loot with me, that’s all. The basket should still be in the coop. Sorry, it’s still early.”

“Oh, okay.” For the first time this morning, Connor’s smile was real. “But about getting groceries…”

“Let’s make a list this evening, okay? I better finish this and get to work. The beasts get cranky when they don’t get their breakfast in time and we wouldn’t want them tossing their eggs at me, right?” He raised his coffee to his lips.

“Okay.” Connor nodded and disappeared. Hank took this as his cue to wolf down his breakfast and clean the mess up before he hurried outside, ready to face the scorn of half a dozen hungry hens.

*

Connor counted to ten when the door leading to the backyard fell shut. The lower floor remained silent and he went downstairs.  
The table was cleared. Plate, mug, and even the pan were drying in the dish rack.  
He picked up Sumo’s bowl. The dog had done a good job at licking it clean and Connor only rinsed it to fight the feeling of uselessness. He wiped it dry and put it back, wiped the counter and table, and returned to his room.

He sat down on his bed and stared out of the window. Another gray in gray day. It wasn’t raining yet but with the dark clouds hanging low, it was only a matter of time. He’d check the fireplaces in the living room and kitchen later to make sure it was nice and warm when Hank came back.  
It was cold in his own room but he hadn’t dared to ask Hank if he could help himself to firewood for the small iron stove standing by the window. He stroked over the soft duvet he was sitting on. During the night, he hadn’t minded the temperatures. The bed might be old but the mattress was still good and the thick eiderdown quilt as cozy as it was old-fashioned.

It had kept his body warm but he regretted he didn’t appreciate it to the fullest. When he had climbed into his bed, the day before had been running through his head. It had been a string of up and downs, fears going hand in hand with hopes, and just when he had thought everything would be alright, his chance at a new life seemed to fall apart.

Cooking this morning, a task that usually would have relaxed him, brought back all the fears from yesterday. He had to do something, what if Hank thought he was useless if he didn’t? What if he hated Connor because he did? It’d be easier if this man was mean and cruel through and through, Connor would know what to expect if it didn’t matter what he did and how but only how his owner wanted to treat him.  
But there was kindness in Hank. He could smile. He had snapped at him and got angry last evening but it was, partly, to tell him he wasn’t about the hit him. That was good. Wasn’t it?

And this morning, he was mostly agreeable. There were moments of irritation but he didn’t lash out at Connor. He seemed to enjoy the food Connor had prepared for him. That meant, not everything was lost. If Connor knew what he was allowed to do and what would offend his new owner, he was certain they could get along really well. Hank needed to tell him but…

He sighed. It was difficult to communicate with someone who didn’t really want to talk to him. Who didn’t really want him to be here.

Connor stood up and paced through his room. He had dusted it and after cleaning the bathroom, he had had enough time to give it a good sweeping and mopping. The fresh evening air that had come in through the opened window had created a cleaner, fresher smell than any scented cleanser could.  
He had shoved Hank’s moving boxes against one of the empty walls, making the small room look brighter and spacier. The dark red sheets Hank had given him turned his bed into a cozy, warm spot in the otherwise undecorated room. If there was a fire… if he got permission to put up up a picture or two… His fingers wandered over the empty window sill, making sure there wasn’t any dust left before he sat down and leaned his head against the window. A potted plant would look nice, too.

Again, he wondered what the fields and meadows would look like in spring, or how red the roof of the barn really was when the sun was out.  
He pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms around his knees. He was ridiculous for wanting to stay here so badly. In a home where he wasn’t wanted, where, as it seemed, he’d spent his existence in this room, out of sight, with nothing to do, nobody to talk.

“Connor? You there?” Hank’s voice shouted from downstairs. The wooden floor was creaking under heavy footsteps.  
Connor’s head jerked around and he jumped from the window sill, straightening his shirt. Hank knocked on his door.

“Yes?” He hurried to open. His back stiffened when he caught his bed from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t straightened the cover and the dent where he had sat moments ago was still clearly visible. What if Hank didn’t tolerate messiness from him?

“Hey, are you busy?” Hank stood in front of him, arms crossed. Straw was sticking in his hair and working with his animals in this crisp air gave him a glow that took a whole decade from his face.

“No. Can I help you with something?” Oh please, say yes! Even if it was walking the dog all on his own, he’d do everything to prove himself useful and earn a spot in this man’s life.

“Going into the village. Stella’s ready to go and we’re just waiting for you to get your ass onto the cart.” Hank pulled a face and rolled his eyes as the words clattered out of his mouth.

“The village?” Connor lifted his chin. He wanted to see how the town was and had been looking forward to being sent there. Going with Hank was- His smile froze.

“What for, if I may ask?” He kept his eyes steady and his face calm when Hank stared at him with raised eyebrows.

“Need stuff and thought I showed you the way before you get lost there on your own. Why?”

“N-nothing. I just want to make sure I act appropriately.” For a moment, he had feared Hank planned to drop him off for good or, worse, changed his mind about Zlatko. But this was reasonable.

“Yeah. So, you coming?” Hank shrugged and was on his way back downstairs.

“Yes!” Connor hurried after him, looking down when the floor felt different under his step. He held back a sigh. Again, Hank hadn’t taken off his muddy boots.

“Hank? Can I-?”

“Do you want to go like this?” Hank interrupted his request to quickly wipe the floor before they left. Connor put a hand on his chest, suddenly self-conscious about his uniform.

“If you give me a moment, I’ll change into the suit.”

“Nah!” Hank waved the suggestion off. “That’s as bad. And still too cold in this weather. Here!” He grabbed one of his coats from the rack and tossed it at Connor. “Not fancy but should keep you warm.”

“Thank you.” Warmth spread to Connor’s cheeks and he quickly turned his back to Hank while he slipped into the long sleeves of a winter coat. He could see why Hank was wearing a less thick jacket to work outside. This coat was so heavily lined with sheepskin, it was too stiff to move freely. And Hank was right, it warmed him up instantly.

“Is something wrong?” Connor asked when Hank grinned at him after he closed the zipper.

“Nothing. Come, shorty, let’s go.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank Anderson? Visiting the village? With an android?! This has to attract the curiosity of at least one local!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I've never written Markus before and it shows!
> 
> I hope the not too subtle hints at Markus/Simon make up for it 😅
> 
> (also, as usual, not beta'd, but I've always been watching a recording of the Dance of the Vampires musicales while writing the last 2000 words and got randomly distracted by fancy crotches a few times, I guarantee for nothing today!)

Summerloch was the kind of village travelers forgot about once their visit ended and nobody really knew when it appeared on the maps. The founders were unknown but had to possess a sense of humor. While it was built in the proximity of a lake, the local climate kept the few weeks of summer mostly moderate at best. Thus, despite being cozy in size and charming with its old buildings, Summerloch didn’t attract many tourists. This created a tight-knitted, in many regards self-sufficient community where everyone knew everyone, and anything out of the ordinary didn’t stay unnoticed.

“Markus, please, do me a favor and pinch me!” Carl Manfred signaled the android behind his wheelchair to stop. “I need to know if my eyes betray me or I’m going insane!”

Markus turned his head to the road, where Carl was staring.

“That’s Hank Anderson.”

“You see it, too? Good, so I’m not losing my mind. Hey,” Carl twisted around and eagerly patted Markus’ arm, “We need to figure out what he’s up to. Come, follow him!”

Markus took a deep breath and smiled.

“Carl, you know Doctor Marsh hates it when you’re late. You agreed we’d be there ahead of time today.” Despite his reprimand, he began to push the wheelchair.

“Rubbish! The old crank driving into town in the middle of the day, in the company of the young man? That’s an emergency, Markus.” Since Markus had known Carl, Carl’s eyes had always betrayed his heavily lined face. His body might have become fragile under the weight of age and sickness but the spirit of a young man lived in him. But right now, he seemed to be possessed by the mischief of a ten-year-old scamp.

“That’s probably the android Simon spoke of.” He bit back a remark about Carl being old enough to be Hank Anderson’s father and, after all, he had to agree with the crank. When he heard Anderson now owned an android, Markus had instantly begun to worry. But he wouldn’t admit that to Carl, it’d only ad oil to his already burning curiosity.

“You’re right, it has to be! Well, we’ll find out the truth once we’ve caught up with them.”

“Carl, gossip isn’t a good reason to skip your appointment.” Markus smiled down in him in good humor as well as in defeat.

“Gossip? Me? Markus, I’m hurt!” Carl clutched his voluminous winter jacket right above his heart. “As one of the oldest citizens, it’s my duty to welcome a new arrival!”

Markus shook his head but picked up his pace.

*

“Good day, how may I help- Oh, Mr. Anderson! And Connor!”

“You know each other?” Hank looked from the blond android behind the counter of the general store to Connor who looked even more lost in Hank’s coat when he nodded shyly.

“I met Connor at the train station and gave him a ride to your farm,” Simon explained when Connor remained silent.

“I see.” Hank meant it when he said he wouldn’t hit Connor, that wasn’t who he was. But the whole idea to beat this sudden, unnerving shyness out of him was tempting. Fortunately, neither his cows nor tools worked that way and he was pretty sure that counted for androids, as well. He turned to the blond android. “You alone here today?”

“No, Sir. Misses Hanson will be back in a few minutes. If you prefer her to assist you.”

Hank squinted at the guy. It was subtle but he was sure he had heard a note of indignation in the android’s assumption. Interesting.

“What’s your name again?” Hank asked, maintaining his scowl. This android business was beginning to amuse him but nobody needed to know that.

“Simon,” the android answered, rather stiffly.

“Well, Simon, I don’t really care, as long as somebody assists him while I get my stuff.” He pointed at Connor behind him.

“Oh, I see!” Simon’s face softened into a smile. “I’m sure I can help him if you elaborate what you need me to do.”

Hank pulled his wallet from his jacket, took out his credit card, and placed it on the counter. Then he fished a pen out of his pocket.

“Help a man out with a piece of paper.” He clicked the pen a few times, unable to hide a smirk as he felt caught between the questioning stares of both androids.

“Yes, of course.”

“Too kind.” Hank bowed his head and began to scribble on the paper notepad Simon had given him. He put the pen away and shoved the notepad back to Simon.

“Get this kid some decent clothes. Something that work’s on a farm. And fits.” He turned around and chuckled. Connor’s flabbergasted face alone was almost worth the hassle to drive here today. “Take this number as your budget. And keep it confidential, okay?”

“But, Hank!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I’ll wait for that Hanson woman to take care of my list meanwhile. That okay for you, Simon?”

Simon, who had stared at the piece of paper in his hands, jerked up his head.

“Well, yes, of course!” He folded the note and shoved it into the pocket of his shirt. He hurried around the counter and put his hands on Connor’s shoulders. “Men’s clothes are upstairs. What colors do you like?”

“I- I'm not sure.”

Hank watched them with amusement as Simon pushed Connor towards the stairs, badgering him with questions about fabrics and styles. Good, that problem was solved, and he even had a moment to himself before he had to deal with the owner of the store, who was a chatterbox in her own right.

He browsed the magazines lying in a stand next to the counter when suddenly, a chill tingled up and down his spine, one that wasn’t justified by the cold draft from the opening door.

“Hank! Hank Anderson, my old friend!”

“Oh, you Gods, why have you forsaken me?” He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and crumbled the fishing magazine between his hands in a desperate prayer.

“Carl.” He didn’t even bother with a smile when he turned around. Carl remained demonstratively oblivious of Hank’s lack of enthusiasm while his android wheeled him through the door.

“I heard you got yourself an android. An RK800, to be precise. We wanted to welcome him.” He leaned back and gave the android behind him a saintly smile. “Isn’t that right, Markus?”

“Do you want me to tell the truth or what you want to hear?”

“Ha, traitor!”

While the two were busy with their exchange, Hank took a look at the android, Markus. Cyberlife really seemed to have a habit of designing handsome machines that didn’t act at all like machines. He wasn’t an expert but the way these two bantered looked like trusted camaraderie between them, not like an owner-tool-relationship. He noticed with satisfaction that this Markus wasn’t wearing a uniform but a rather fashionable coat over a turtleneck sweater and his shoes were as fancy as they were practical. Simon, too, wore, aside from a work shirt with the store’s logo on it, normal clothes.

“Well, where is the young man?”

“Upstairs, getting clothes. Now, if you excuse me-”

“Good call.” Carl nodded approvingly. “Those uniforms they give them are, well…”

“Dehumanizing,” Hank said and bit his tongue. The word shot out of him before he knew he was thinking it but hit the nail on the head. That’s why looking at Connor wearing it had made him uncomfortable. Suits were bad enough, they marked most of their wearers of the rat race they were a part of and that Hank couldn’t stand. But the now-go-and-obey-the-one-who-bought-you vibe the uniform gave off was worse by miles.

“Exactly. See, you’re one of us good guys.” Carl grinned at him as if he had won the debate of the year against Hank.

“Your bar for good guys is damn low if that’s all that it takes,” he snarled back but Carl only chuckled.

“My dear Hank, I’m too old to let myself fool by a sneer. Markus?”

“Yes?” The android who had watched the staircase until he heard his name turned to Carl.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and see if you can help Simon?”

“If you don’t need me here? Okay, but call me if you’re ready to leave. Mr. Anderson.” He nodded at Hank and quickly disappeared.

“He and Simon are friends, or so they’d say if you asked them.” Carl laughed once Markus was out of earshot.

“Oh?” Hank wasn’t sure what exactly Carl meant but he also didn’t really want to ask. Yeah, Carl Manfred was one of the good guys, how he’d put it, but he was also a pain in the ass. Also richer than was good for one man, not that it was a crime in itself but Hank had never felt comfortable in the presence of moneybags.

“Yeah. But that’s something they have to figure out for themselves. So, what’s the android’s name? Has he deviated yet?”

“Connor and- what?” Hank shook his head as if that would help him to process the question.

“Deviated. Is he self-aware? Or still following his programming?” Carl spoke slowly like he was explaining why brushing teeth was important to a toddler.

“Uh…” He looked to the stairs. He didn’t like Carl’s tone, just because he didn’t know the in and outs of androids, he wasn’t an idiot. But that was an interesting bit of knowledge he’d have to look up when they were back at home later. Without Connor looking over his shoulder. He opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“He’d say no if you asked him,” was the answer he finally settled with and judging from Carl’s understanding nod, it said enough.

“I see. Maybe he can tell me more once we meet. Say, Hank, why don’t you visit us tomorrow? I can’t complain about Markus’ company but,” Carl smiled weakly and sighed, “he doesn’t appreciate the wonders of good wine.”

*

Connor barely found his voice. A few minutes ago, he was still sitting on the cart, next to Hank, huddled into Hank’s coat, and worried what would happen next. Now he followed Simon, nodding along with his questions. It was warm in the store, so he wasn’t cold when Simon offered to take his coat.

Simon showed him rags with pants, shelves stocked with shirts and sweaters, and another rag with jackets and anoraks.

“Pick a few things you like. If we don’t have your size, we can order it. It might take a few days but I’d deliver it right to your home.”

“I understand.” Connor touched an orange sweater that was displayed on a table but didn’t pick it up. He still wasn’t over the surprise of Hank buying him a new outfit. Having to choose himself was too much. If he made the wrong choice…

“I don’t think this shade of orange is a good color for you,” Simon tried to help. Connor nodded and moved away from the table. He wasn’t oblivious about aesthetics. Picking out appropriate garments for humans of all ages to all possible occasions was part of his programming. He knew which colors went together and which cuts were suitable for a dinner but not for a funeral but beyond that, fashion wasn’t one of his interests. And he had never wasted a thought about fashion on himself.

“Do you prefer plain designs? Any favorite patterns?” Simon was browsing through piles of sweaters, holding up some and nodded, discarded others with a frown on his face.

“I don’t know.” Connor finally gave up pretending to know what he was looking for. “Do you have any ideas?”

Simon seemed to have waited for this question. A wide smile lit up his friendly face.

“Absolutely.” He grabbed one of the sweaters he had put aside, tore a pair of pants off the rack, and pushed both into Connor’s arms. “Would you like to use the changing room?”

Connor was about to answer but hesitated. They were both androids and alone on this floor. Undressing wouldn’t upset any humans and androids did know the social rules but didn’t feel the shame associated with nudity. He pressed the clothes against his chest.

“Over there!” Simon pointed across the room to a simple cubicle with a curtain closing the front. “I’ll bring you a few other options in a moment.”

“Thank you.”

In the safety behind the curtain, Connor took a moment to look at his reflection. Simon had a good eye, as to be expected. The dark jeans fitted him perfectly. It was a tight yet comfortable cut and the fabric allowed him to move freely. His legs looked even more slender than in his uniform.

“Hey, Connor! Do they fit? How do you like them?” Simon’s voice came from outside, being dangerously close. And as Connor had feared, a hand already rustled at the curtain.

“One moment!” He quickly slipped into the second piece, a turtleneck of a gentle, blue color. He barely had a chance to see how it looked on him when Simon pulled the curtain aside.

“I knew this would suit you.” Simon’s smile was heavy with satisfaction. “Your eyes go with most colors but you’re too pale for too bright shades. Here, this shade of orange should work.”

“I think I like this one.” He pointed at the one he was wearing but Simon shoved him back into the cabin with the quiet orange long sleeve.

“Good, that’s a start but Mr. Anderson won’t be happy if I send you down with just one piece. Let me know how you like it, I’ll be back with more in a second.”

Connor had just changed into the new piece when he heard voices from outside. One was Simon’s, although he was speaking in a soft, gentle tone unknown to Connor. He pulled down the shirt to fully cover his stomach and peeked from behind the curtain. Simon’s back was turned to him and he was talking to a man in his early thirties. He was with no doubt handsome with his athletic built and intense eyes. Simon looked pale like the moon in contrast to this man’s dark skin and they were a pretty pair standing there like this.

Connor quickly retreated back behind the curtain. His thirium pump was whirring in his chest. The two were standing very close and he felt like he had been observing a moment that wasn’t meant to be shared, especially when the tall stranger lowered his head.

He tried to shift his attention to the new shirt. Simon had been right, this color was still bright and friendly but muted enough to work with his complexion. Specialized knowledge was expected of androids but Simon seemed to enjoy his work. Connor had already suspected on their ride to Rooster Manor that Simon was a deviant and seeing the joy on his face when he picked clothes for Connor confirmed his suspicion.

Did this man know? Was what he had glimpsed it something they both wanted? Or was Simon pretending?

“Connor? I have more things for you to try on!” There was a new lightness in Simon’s voice, speaking of genuine happiness, Connor noticed with relief.

“Okay.” He checked the mirror to make sure his expression was calm and neutral and opened the curtain. The stranger was still there, standing right behind Simon, closer than was polite in the presence of a third party. A possessive hand was resting on Simon’s shoulder.

“Sorry it took so long.” Simon glared over his shoulder and shook the hand off. “Here.” He handed Connor two more sweaters and a pair of black pants.

“Hi,” the man behind him suddenly said and Simon blushed.

“Oh, this is Markus, a friend of mine. He works for Mr. Manfred, which makes him your neighbor. Markus, this is Connor, he lives with Mr. Anderson.”

Markus stepped forward, arm outstretched. Connor shoved the pile of clothes under his left arm and shook Markus’ hand. His eyes widened when a tingle shot through his fingers when they touched Markus’ skin.

“You’re an android!” it shot out of him. Markus laughed, letting go of his hand.

“Of course I’m an android. Did you really mistake me for a human?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Connor searched Markus’ face for any signs he had missed but there was nothing. Markus wasn’t wearing the small LED circle on his temple that’d identify him as an android even without any signs on his clothes. He was dressed like a human, casually for a human caretaker even, and he moved like a human. But it was the spark in his eyes that could fool anyone. And how he held himself. Like he didn’t care whether he was among humans or androids. Even Simon still possessed this distant aura that was typical for them as it said, no matter how much they looked and moved like humans, they were different. Always a step behind them.

“I don’t have to poke myself to prove you I’m one of you guys, do I?” Markus pushed the sleeves of his jacket and sweater back. “But if you insist, I’m sure Simon has his sewing set in arm’s reach.”

“Markus, don’t bully him. He’s new and lives with Mr. Anderson.”

“Right.” Markus’ face hardened. “How does he treat you?”

Connor looked at Simon, then at Markus, suddenly wanting nothing more than to disappear behind the curtain. There was something intense and forceful about the way Markus was talking that pushed him back.

“I’m not sure,” he said after hesitating another moment, both androids’ eyes on him. “He didn’t want to keep me at first but after talking with Zlatko Andronikov, he changed his mind. He is difficult but he also gave me a room and now clothes.” He smiled at the end, stroking over the sweaters he was holding.

“Zlatko?!” Markus and Simon exchanged a shocked look. Markus put his hand back on Simon’s shoulder.

“Yes, he’s…” Connor inhaled slowly. The room with its overburdened shelves and tables disappeared and he was standing in a saloon with a high ceiling. Two androids nodded when a short, greasy man shouted orders at him and began to undress.

“Hey, everything all right?”

“What?” With a jolt, Connor was back in the presence. Markus was standing in front of him, holding him by his arm. Simon was by his side, picking up the clothes Connor had dropped. “Yes.” Connor forced his voice to be clear and firm but couldn’t stop it entirely from shaking.

“Did he do anything to you?”

“No. Hank left and took me with him before anything happened.” He took a few steps back, twisting his arm free from Markus’ grip. He didn’t want to talk anymore and after all, he didn’t know these two, what business did they have to demand answers from him? He belonged to Hank and despite all difficulties, right now, Connor wanted to end this and go back to him downstairs.

“Let it go, Markus. Here, try them on and give me those back you don’t like.” His hand on Connor’s back, Simon gently pushed Connor back to the changing cabin. “Don’t mind Markus. He can be pushy if his protective instinct awakens.”

“Protective instinct?” Connor narrowed his eyes. “I don’t understand. I’m certainly in no need of a protective instinct.” Again, the other two androids exchanged a look. Simon bit his lip, Markus chuckled.

“Sorry.” Markus ran a hand over his short black hair and gave a crooked, apologetic smile that softened his features. “I didn’t want to imply anything, of course you can fend for yourself.” The last bit didn’t sound convinced but Connor ignored it.

“Thanks,” he said flatly and moved back into the cabin.

“When did you deviate anyway?” Markus asked just when Connor was about to close the curtain. His hand froze as he clawed into the heavy fabric.

“Deviate? I’m not a deviant.”

“What?” Markus’ confusion sent a shudder down his spine. Connor’s expression was calm when he looked up but he didn’t manage to look into Markus or Simon’s eyes.

“I apologize if I behaved inappropriately. I still adapt to my new surroundings. But I assure you, there is no malfunction in my programming.”

“If you say so…” Markus glanced at Simon who shrugged.

“I do. Excuse me while I try these. I’ll hurry, it’d be impolite to let my owner wait any longer.” Without giving them a chance to answer, Connor ripped the curtain close. After leaning against the wall with his back for a moment, his mind calmed down. He quickly slipped into the sweaters, focusing on the sounds of rustling fabric to shut out the whispers from outside.

For the next half of an hour, Connor slipped in what felt like a hundred different sweaters, shirts, pants, and more than a dozen jackets. With every pick, he thought he was done but then, Simon would hand him something else to try on.

“Why don’t you keep this on?” Simon finally said after he helped Connor into a fur-lined, dark-green windbreaker. “The shirts do a better job at keeping you warm in this wind than your uniform and the jacket, well, fits you actually.” He nodded at Hank’s discarded monster of a winter coat and grinned.

“Yes, you’re right.” Connor looked into the mirror, pushing the ends of the thick, red flannel shirt inside the sleeves of the jacket. He was wearing an additional simple white shirt under all this and was beginning to feel a little too warm.

“Here, don’t forget to cover your ears.” Markus laughed and put a beanie on Connor’s head, pulling it over his ears and eyes.

“Markus, please.” Simon chuckled while Connor adjusted the hat. “But he’s right,” Simon tugged at the hat until he was satisfied with its fit, “And this looks good on you. I’ll get you a fitting scarf and gloves. Well, I think we’re all set!”

Simon led the way downstairs, followed by Markus, who was carrying the pieces they’d finally chosen. Connor walked behind them, keeping a generous distance that encouraged any attempt at a conversation.

“Did you have fun?” An elderly man sitting in a wheelchair greeted them. He put the magazine he was reading aside and moved towards them. “And you must be Connor. It’s nice to meet finally meet you. Carl Manfred. Please call me Carl.”   
Connor shook the fragile hand and, in spite of himself, smiled back. There was something warm about this man that he instantly liked.

“Thank you, Carl. You must be Markus’ owner.” He felt his ears getting even warmer under the beanie when Carl laughed. He had had his fill of well-meaning people laughing at something he said for the day.

“Oh, no, no, my dear.” Carl patted Connor’s hand before he let it go. “I don’t own him. He works for me, yes, and for that, I’m ever so grateful. But first and foremost, he’s my friend. And I’m sure you’ll become friends soon, too.”

“I-I see.” He wondered if Carl was aware of what was going on between Markus and Simon and what he thought about it. If he really didn’t see Markus as his property. He wouldn’t be the first human who disliked words like ownership, possession, and object on the outside but the way the felt and treated their androids proved it was really just about the words, not the ideas behind them.

“It’s almost like we’ve known you since the moment you arrived,” Carl continued his chatter. “You’d left quite an impression already on our Simon.”

“That’s true,” Markus threw in from behind the counter where he bagged the items while Simon rang them up. “He wouldn’t stop talking about that cute RK800 named Connor he had met. I was surprised he dropped you off instead of just bringing you with him.”

“Shut up, I’m not that bad!” Simon boxed Markus’ arm. “Carl, please tell him I’m not, I don’t want Connor to have a wrong impression of me.”

“If it comforts you, Simon, I agree that he’s cute.” Carl chuckled. Connor’s and Simon’s discomfort only seemed to egg Carl and Markus on. “Don’t worry, Connor, that’s just how us small town folks are. The days are peaceful here. Too peaceful at times. Any new permanent arrival is a little sensation. Forgive us bumpkins, will you?”

“Of course. I’m not offended.” Connor put on a polite smile. He doubted that he was talking to a simple country bumpkin. This friendly man was smart and owned - lived with - an android model Connor hadn’t seen before. There was more to Carl Manfred and Markus behind Carl’s modesty and their banter.

“He can’t be offended.” Markus brought five large, stuffed bags and handed them to Connor. “He’s not a deviant, you know.”

“Thank you.” It was difficult to keep up the smile without flinching when those dark eyes stared accusingly at him. He turned his head away and looked at the entrance. “Where is Hank? Did he leave?” His discomfort changed into fear. He’d wasted too much time upstairs and Hank got angry and left him alone. What was he supposed to do? Wait? Go home on his own? Or was he abandoned with nowhere to go?

“Oh, he’s outside with Misses Hanson, getting chicken feed from the storage and loading it on the cart right away,” Carl answered. “Don’t worry, dear boy. He should be back for you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you!” Connor beamed at Carl, suddenly feeling light with relief. “I’ll meet him outside. Thank you all for your help!” He nodded at Simon and rushed out of the store.

“Interesting fellow,” Carl said once the door closed and he was alone with the androids.

“What do you think? Deviant or not?” Markus had an amused smirk on his face.

“Ha!” Carl snorted, moving his wheelchair across the room, to a small table with cookies where he helped himself. “I was less of a deviant in my twenties than this guy!”

“I doubt that.” Simon came from the area behind the counter with a cup of coffee for Carl. “Why do you think he lies? When we’re all obviously deviant?”

“He might be one of those who think it’s wrong of us to think for ourselves.” Markus sneered, leaning against Simon.

“Thank you, dear.” Carl took a slow sip from the coffee before he answered, “Don’t let your jealousy blind you, Markus. Oh, no, don’t even try to deny it.” He wagged his finger at the androids, shutting down Markus’ protest but then he turned serious, looking old and tired under the grave expression. “I’ve rarely seen a human this scared. That he’s even afraid to be who he is in the company of his own people… Be patient with him, Markus. Simon. Whatever the kid’s been through, I think we can count ourselves lucky it wasn’t us.”

“The way you pushed him I wouldn’t be surprised if he turns into a recluse like Mr. Anderson.” Simon shoved Markus away, slapping the back of his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. But I’m not really sure what I can do about that now.”

“Oh, that’s simple.” Carl waved his concern away. “You’ll apologize to him the next time you’ll see him.” The spark of youth suddenly returned to Carl and he grinned with the satisfaction known from cats after they stole the best bits from their human’s plate. “Which will be Saturday.”

“Saturday?”

“Indeed. I convinced Hank to visit us for dinner and a drink. He agreed when I insisted he has to bring Connor along. And now, Simon, be a dear and get me another coffee.” He smiled widely at the astonished faces, holding up the empty cup.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🐔🐔🐔🦖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what to write for a chapter summary because, well, not much is happening in this chapter :'D  
> If I did chapter titles, it'd probably be "Somewhat Settling in" or so. 
> 
> Please be patient with these dorks, they try their best! 
> 
> And thank you all for the sweet comments I got since the last upload. You guys are precious ♥

The cold wind hit Connor’s face and tried to tear the comfortable warmth from inside away from him, but his new jacket protected him well. But most importantly, being outside protected him from Carl and the androids drilling him with their questions. What an odd trio. Simon seemed very kind and Connor regretted he couldn’t accept the friendship he so obviously offered. One reason was Markus who seemed less excited about Connor’s existence. And Carl, nice as he was and as much as Connor wanted to like him, was a stranger. Simon and Markus might be deviants and Carl might be accepting, that didn’t mean they couldn’t cause danger for Connor if they chose to.

“That’s all of your order, Mr. Anderson.”

Connor turned around. Hank and a woman just left the shed right next to the store, each carrying a large bag. Supposedly the chicken feed Carl had mentioned. They hurled the bags on the cart and Connor walked over to them.

“What a surprise! The last time you got it yourself was… was it last year? Or the year before?” She put a hand on her back and bent it backward, with the other, she shoved a lose red hair strand back under her cap.

“Dunno. I’ll be on my way once I paid.” Hank shrugged and turned away from her. Connor couldn’t help smiling. After being in the company of strangers for the last hour, he was looking forward to Hank’s silence during their ride home. That was when Hank looked at him and froze in his track.

“Connor?” he asked, pushing his hair out of his face. Connor nodded, his lips twitching at Hank’s tone. But then, Hank smiled and Connor relaxed.

“Wow. I mean, yeah, that’s a lot better.” He patted Connor’s shoulder when he walked past him. “Looking good, kid. You wanna wait until I’m done? Should only take a moment.”

“Yes. I’ll wait.” He put his bags safely away so they wouldn’t fall off during the ride and climbed onto his seat, almost scared of how happy he had felt when Hank praised him for the first time.

*

Hank’s old coat, taking up a whole shopping bag by its own, had a peaceful ride among large bags of chicken feed. Connor, shielded from the cold by the much better fitting windbreaker, enjoyed Hank’s silent company. It was odd how the same quiet had filled him with worry on their way into town. Now, as he recalled Hank’s smile when he saw Connor in his new outfit, the silence was comforting.

Although, the world never was silent, not even here, on the lonely country road that led them away from the village life, their own home still not in sight. Connor was beginning to take the drizzle for granted, as well as the absence of sunlight. The heavy gray sky reminded him of his days in the city. On some days, the streets were stuffed with cars and the humans rushed from one building into the other, even on sunny days, everything felt gray. But here, it felt different.  
Mud squished under the horse’s hooves for some parts of the way, for others, there was the rustle of gravel. It was quiet around them, nature was preparing itself for the approaching winter. Aside from the occasional bird shooting through the evergreen roof of the forest, they didn’t see any animals.

Only the rain supplied a constant rushing background noise but unless the neverending stream of roaring engines, the noise of the rain pattering on leaves filled Connor’s nose with fresh air and his mind with comfort.

“It’s nice outside. But it’s also nice to know we’ll reach Rooster Manor in approximately thirty-four minutes.”

“Humph.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to talk.” Connor bit his tongue; he hadn’t been aware he had voiced the last thought until Hank grunted in response. They both retreated back into silence but once broken, the cracks in its magic wouldn’t disappear.

There were things Connor needed to talk about with Hank. Before, he had thought they could wait until they were back at home but now the urge to speak now wouldn’t go away. His fingers twiddling with the cord of his jacket, he stared at the field they were passing but the more he tried, the more impossible it became to lose himself into the scenery again.

“Hell, spit it out before you burst,” Hank growled. “Didn’t buy you that stuff only to clean android gibs off my cart. Or whatever’s left when you guys explode.”

“I… We…” Connor looked away, his hands clawing his pants before he forced them to relax and lie motionlessly on his legs. He had to be a lot more careful than he thought if Hank could read him this easily. “We don’t explode unless external forces in form of explosives are involved. If we get damaged enough, our functionality is impaired or we stop completely. Not talking doesn’t cause any damage.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, what is it?”

“You actually mentioned it yourself.” If Hank insisted, he might as well talk and change the topic while he did so. “I didn’t see all price tags but I did an approximate of the amount you spent for me based on those I did see. Cyberlife is sometimes willing to reimburse customers for a necessary outside purchase and I’m certain after their mistake, they’d be willing to pay for one set if you explain it’s important for my work. But that wouldn’t cover the whole expense. I don’t have access to any funds to pay you back, Hank. I don’t know what to do.”

Hank’s snort almost sounded like a chuckle.

“Is that funny, Hank? I don’t understand why?”

“Thank you,” Hank said curtly. Forgetting about his worries and that Hank might see them in his face, Connor turned around and stared at him.

“Excuse me?”

“You say ‘thank you’. That’s what people usually do.”

“I-”

“Listen, Connor,” Hank sighed and stretched his back, one hand rubbing his neck, “Even if I didn’t hate the stuff you were wearing, you needed more. Stuff doesn’t stay clean long, not in this season. You needed them and I didn’t want to see you run around in that suit or uniform. Had to be done. I don’t ask you to pay. If you really want to do something, lock your old rags away and by all means, say thank you. Maybe don’t expect I’ll sponsor you a weekly shopping tour from now on. Then forget about it.”

Their eyes met. For the first time, Connor had the feeling Hank was really looking at him but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hold back a smile. Some of the harsh cold was gone from Hank’s blue eyes and Connor was certain he saw a hint of a smile behind the rugged beard.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever. You’re welcome. Also-” Hank glared at the back of the horse, his muttering barely audible.

“Hank?”

“FINE!” Hank groaned, sighing at the clouds above their heads. “I’m sorry. Was a bit of an ass to you yesterday. Got not much patience with people but…” He hissed out his breath and dropped his shoulders, looking deflated. “Yeah. Wasn’t fair. Sorry about that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Hank…” Connor forgot his fear. He forgot the things he had learned and he forgot all cautiousness. Lost for words, he fell around Hank’s neck.

“Woah! Careful! Don’t push me off!” Taken by surprise, Hank almost lost his balance and pulled the reins. The poor horse, confused by the sudden noise and mixed signals, neighed, stopped, reared, and fell into an abrupt jog.

“That’s the nicest thing ever said to me…” Connor barely noticed the words leaving his throat.

“Oh, fuck this!” His range of motion still limited by the android clinging to him, Hank did his best to bring the horse back to her previous pace. Somehow, he managed to pull one hand free and pat Connor’s arm. “Don’t make me feel worse about my temper tantrum than I already did.”  
  
*

The rest of the way, they pretended Connor’s outburst didn’t happen. The silence between them wasn’t relaxed but its tension wasn’t hostile. Connor wanted to talk but the things he wanted to say had to remain unspoken.

“Can I help you?” Connor asked and glided off the cart. Hank had already jumped into the mud and walked to the back.

“Nah. I’ll be faster if I do this on my own. Just take care of your stuff.” He threw one of the bags over his broad shoulder, barely flinching under the weight. Connor grabbed one of his bags but hesitated.

“What?”

“Isn’t there anything I can do to help you? I understand you don’t want to be waited on but staying under your roof and accepting your generosity,” he lifted the bag, “isn’t right.”

“Huh.” Hank frowned and looked first at the other feed bags, then at the horse. He shook his head. “Not today. The unplanned trip messed enough with my and the animals' routine. If you want, I can show you how to take care of Stella another time. That could be your job. That okay?”

“Yes!” Connor nodded and reached for his other bags. “Oh, Hank! I thought of something else!”

“What now?” Hank who was already on his way to the chicken coop sighed and turned around.

“I like to cook. Please, can I take care of your meals? I’ll even feed the dog!” He added the last bit with less enthusiasm. He had fed Sumo this morning and it went over well but the dog had buried his face in the bowl the second Connor filled it, without having a chance to stand up and move away. Nothing had happened, Sumo didn’t even touch him but he was too close to suddenly for him to be comfortable with the situation.

“Even the dog, eh?” Of course, Hank had caught the shift in Connor’s tone. He was more observant than Connor had anticipated. So far, Hank hadn’t taken advantage of this in ways to cause Connor problems but he didn’t dare to trust it would stay this way. “Sure, why not.” Hank finally shrugged. “Don’t hate cooking but coming home to some food doesn’t sound too bad, so, yeah. Sumo doesn’t need something until later, you can give him a snack, though, when you see him. And let him out. I swear, that boy ain’t happy until he’d slobbered over the faces of all cows.” He was more speaking to himself by the end and was back on his way to the coop. Connor took this as him being dismissed and returned to the main house, carefully skipping around muddy puddles to keep his new shoes clean.

His worries about Sumo had been unfounded. He had barely opened the door when the dog shot outside without wasting as much as a glance at Connor.  
Connor heard him bark and Hank who laughed in response. He listened for a moment. Out of sight, the barking wasn’t threatening at all, he even thought he could hear joy in the noise. He liked Hank’s laughter. Deep, with a growl, almost a bark in itself but so much more human. No mockery, no spite, no threat. Affectionate. Connor smiled. This had to be the sound of affection. It was pleasant and he wished he could listen a little while longer. But Hank and his dog had reached the building and it had become quiet.

Once inside the house, Connor felt warm only by the absence of wind and rain. He removed his shoes; despite his best efforts, the short path between the cart and the door was enough to cover them in muddy water. He’d clean them as soon as he had stored his other things away in his room. He put his new jacket and Hank’s old coat on the coat rack. His hair was a mess after he removed his hat and he needed a moment to tidy it up.

He barely recognized himself in the mirror. Simon had a good eye for clothes. Connor feared at first the pants were inappropriately tight fitting but the loose flannel shirt went past his butt, softening the impression. He did look good in these clothes and Hank was right, this was more fitting to the old country house than the modern, over-simplified uniform. It didn’t even matter that his hair wasn’t perfectly styled.

He heard the dog barking outside and tore himself away from his reflection. Hank wouldn’t come back inside before he had unloaded the cart and taken care of the horse, and then he had also mentioned the cows. Still, Connor didn’t want to be caught gazing at his own reflection as if it mattered to him how he looked. After a short trip to the kitchen to throw a handful of snacks into Sumo’s bowl, he grabbed his bags and hurried upstairs.

Connor only returned downstairs to quickly clean his shoes and to prepare Hank’s dinner. The evening was still a few hours away but it was already getting dark outside and he wasn’t sure when Hank exactly would be back. But even if it was within the next thirty minutes, he’d probably not say no to a snack. As far as Connor was aware, Hank hadn’t eaten since breakfast and had to be hungry.

He wished he had thought of buying groceries while they were at the store. There was enough in the fridge and pantry for another simple meal but he could do so much more for his owner if he had access to a selection of fresh produce and herbs. But he had learned to better not demand too much of Hank. Neither human nor dog would starve within the next days and that was enough time to find a good moment to ask Hank about his eating habits and possible intolerances or allergies.

He prepared a simple soup with frozen vegetables and bouillon cubes and a tuna casserole that should last for another meal tomorrow. Now, when Hank was back, Connor could reheat both while Hank got rid of his shoes and washed his hands. He had also found a beer crate in the pantry and restocked the fridge with two bottles.

Satisfied with his work, he returned to his room after cleaning the kitchen.

*

Connor was sitting on the window sill, nose buried in a book when Hank knocked.

“Yes?” Connor replied after a pause and Hank came in.

“I’m sorry, Hank, I wasn’t aware you waited for me to answer the knock.” Connor put the open book down and stood up.

“Got some manners, you know. Everything okay?” Hank closed the door behind him and put down a brass bucket. “You fled the scene as soon as I came into the kitchen. Almost suspected to find a corpse there.”

“A corpse? Oh! No, nothing like that! I figured you’d rather enjoy your dinner by yourself. I’m sorry if the manner of my retreat was rude.”

“Oh, I see. Yeah.” Hank stroke over his beard, looking at Connor as if he wanted to say more but then, he shook his head. “Yeah, whatever. Forgot to tell that Simon kid to get you some decent pajamas. Got you some of mine. They’re not new but still okay and clean. And warm.” He put the pile he’d stuck under his other arm on Connor’s bed.

“Thank you! Hank, that’s not necessary.” Connor rushed to his bed and unfolded one of the shirts. Simple, made of cotton, the once dark blue color faded, but as Hank said, it still looked fine and warm.

“You’ll sing another song in a week or two. Winter’s harsh here and this dump’s isolation is from the Middle Ages. Also noticed it was pretty cold here this morning. Got you what you need to start a fire.” He pointed at the bucket.

“Thank you.” Connor was beginning to feel stupid as he couldn’t think of what else to say. It took him all his self-restraint from not hugging Hank again. He was still grateful Hank hadn’t mentioned it again. If he’d fall for Connor’s usual excuse of copying appropriate human behavior was questionable. He pressed the shirt against his body. “It’s… it’s really not necessary. I won’t take damage as long as I’m not exposed to freezing temperatures for a longer time.”

“Yeah, would be a shitty concept if Cyberlife made you guys less resistant against the weather than the average human.” Hank shoved the bucket towards the small stove with his foot and began to pile up firewood and coal. Connor quickly put the shirt away and hurried to his side, ready to protest that his owner would do this dirty work in his room but the fire flickered before Connor could think of the most appeasing words.

“Also,” Hank said, “You like it cozy and nope, I won’t listen to your denial. What do you read?” Hank was back to his feet and wiped his hands on his pants, looking at the book.

“Oh, that.” Connor was back by the window and picked up the book. “I’m sorry. I found a box labeled books when I shoved the boxes aside. It wasn’t taped so I took the one on top and… I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“Nah.” Hank brushed the concern off with a wave of his hand. “Wanted to go through the stuff to see what can be donated anyway, the rest goes into the attic or trash. As long as you stay away from any personal documents, help yourself. Most are just old clothes and books anyway.” Hank checked the open box, taking out a few books and looking at the titles. “Hell, I don’t even remember any of these.” He tossed them back into the box. “Got those I like downstairs. Consider these yours. Take what you like and I’ll donate the rest the next time the Hansons deliver an order.”

“Thank you, Hank. I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it. Need anything else?”

Connor shook his head, biting his tongue.

“Well then, good night. See you tomorrow.”

After the door closed, Connor sat down on his bed. Pressing the book to his chest, he gazed at the old pajamas. He was glad Hank had left. He couldn’t remember if he ever felt like choking from happiness.

*

The next morning, Connor booted from his resting phase with the same light heart as he went to bed. The fire had gone out but the room was still warm and filled with the scent of cold, burnt wood and amber. The thick duvet seemed to swallow him whole and in his over-sized pajamas, Connor felt exactly like Hank had prophesied: cozy.  
He wanted to get out of bed and change into one of his new outfits to greet the day but at the same time, he wanted to wrap tighter into all the softness around him and experience the warmth for a few more minutes. Which was a new experience in itself.

Nevertheless, he was in the kitchen fifteen minutes later. He hadn’t heard or seen a sign of Hank or his dog and assumed they were outside, doing the first round of animal care. Connor took the liberty to take a quick shower before he dressed. He could have done without for another day but being clean before slipping into the new pants and sweater seemed appropriate.

Hank returned just when Connor finished preparing his breakfast. Hank greeted him with a grunt and dug in fried bacon, two sandwiches, and a small fruit salad in silence. He only nodded when Connor offered to refill his coffee.

“Sorry, not a morning person,” Hank muttered when Connor was about to leave the kitchen.

“That’s okay, I understand.” Connor smiled.

“You do?” Hank looked past the newspaper he had just begun to read.

“Of course. Mornings can be very difficult. You don’t know what will be-” Connor’s voice broke off and his smile disappeared. “I understand the concept. Some humans function better when they go to bed late and get up around noon. Others struggle with low blood pressure and sugar. Then there are those who need a while before they feel ready to socialize. Have you consulted a doctor to rule out any physical issues, Hank?” But Hank only stared at him, his glare asking a dozen questions Connor wouldn’t answer. Connor looked for something to do but the used dishes were clean and Hank’s mug was still half-full. Sumo was fed and napping by Hank’s feet. Connor tugged the sleeve of his sweater, eyes on the sleeping dog.

“Leave my health to me. Want half of the paper? We can switch when done.” Hank sorted the newspaper in two equal parts and tossed the second half onto the empty side of the table. “Sit down already. Standing there and fidgeting makes me nervous.”

“Okay.” Connor clenched his fists a few times and took a seat and hid his face behind the offered paper.

*

The next two day passed quietly. Hank didn’t talk much to Connor and Connor hesitated to initiate a conversation. Unless he had a question about the household or where to find certain items, he kept as much to himself as Hank.

He had quickly fallen into a routine. He got up early to prepare breakfast for Hank and Sumo. He’d stay in the kitchen to share the newspaper with Hank. Once Hank was gone, he’d do some superficial cleaning and retreat to his room. Hank was indeed skipping lunch most of the time. He’d come in sometimes, raid the fridge for a quick snack, and if there weren’t any cold leftovers, he’d wolf down a slice of cheese and go back outside. Connor had dinner ready before Hank came back and stay out of his way for the rest of the evening. Hank hadn’t snapped at him but he also didn’t ask him to stay, so he concluded leaving Hank alone was a wise choice.  
After wiping up the dirty footprints and cleaning Hank’s boots, Connor was back to his room.

Friday afternoon was dry but cold. Connor had finished dinner preparations and after rekindling the fire in his room, he settled down with a book. He had moved the chair closer to the window but after a few moments, he found himself back on the window sill. Ever so often, he’d look up from the text and gaze outside, over the fields. The air was clear today but he still couldn’t see the next house. At first, he wondered if living so far away from the next neighbor would be lonely but so far, he liked it. It was peaceful.

Maybe a little too peaceful. He’d pick this life over his past any day but he wished there was more to do for him. The few chores Hank accepted were quickly completed. So quickly, in fact, that he wasn’t tempted to ask Hank to get out of his boots before walking all over the clean floor. For Connor, this inconsideration meant extra work but at least it gave him something to do.  
There also wasn’t much left to fix in his room. He had sorted and put away his clothes, dusted every nook he could find, cleaned up the shelves and lined up Hank’s old books. Analog reading was an enjoyable activity, more than Connor had anticipated, but at this rate, he’d run out of reading material before the month was over.

Earlier that day, Simon had arrived to deliver fresh groceries. Hank had left the task to him and Connor and Simon had a little, amiable chat. Simon was sweet and ever concerned with Connor’s wellbeing but there was an invisible wall between them since the word “deviate” fell. Also, Simon was on schedule with his deliveries, leaving them only a few minutes for their conversation. Simon left, Connor put the groceries away, and now, here he was, the open book on the lap while he stared outside, wondering if he’d ever get along with anyone around him.

“Yes?” He’d barely heard the knock the first time but the second time, Hank’s fist hammered against the door and pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, are you busy?” Hank threw the door open and Sumo trotted inside, leaving a circle of muddy paw prints on the floor. Connor looked down at them, refusing to feel irritation, which became harder when he noticed Hank’s boots. It wasn’t raining today but at these low temperatures, it’d take days until the soil dried, except for the generous portion Hank and Sumo had just scattered across the whole house.

“No, I was done until it’s time for dinner. But I think I need to wipe the floor.” He snapped his book shut and put it on the table with enough force to raise Hank’s eyebrows. Connor blinked a few times and quickly looked away to carefully adjust the position of the neglected chair. “Do you need my help?”

“Nope, but as you don’t have anything better to do, you might as well grab your coat and the sturdy shoes and come outside. I need to unbridle Stella and might show you a thing or two. The chickens are also hungry.”

He didn’t wait for Connor’s answer but it wasn’t necessary. Connor was right on his heels and fully dressed before Hank could finish the apple he snatched from the kitchen.

“You want me to feed the chickens?” Connor asked, rubbing his hands. The temperatures had dropped overnight and despite the lack of rain, it was colder than the days before. He felt the bite of the crisp air on his cheeks and hands, despite the scarf and the gloves.

“As a quick warm-up, yeah. It’s a little early but the summer didn’t leave them much to graze, that’s why they get an extra round in the early afternoon. I’m a bit late for that, to be honest, so I thought hey, why not stay back where’s safe and let the greenhorn catch their wrath.”

Connor stopped in his track, staring at Hank with wide eyes. He had seen Hank’s chickens and the two geese from the window, that was the closest he had come to a living chicken in his life. He was with their meat and from what he’d seen, he had concluded they were harmless. Now that he thought about it, they were closely related to dinosaurs and he knew that if he had ever to take care of children, he was supposed to tell them to keep a respectful distance to poultry. He had never questioned this knowledge but there had to be good reasons for his programmed instructions, and if even Hank didn’t want to approach them when they were hungry…

He searched Hank’s face for comfort but it was hard and unmoved like a stone. All he did was giving a somber nod before he gestured Connor to follow him. Rubbing and pinching his left upper arm, Connor obeyed, staying a few steps behind Hank.

“Well, here we are.” Hank picked up a bucket that was standing next to the low gate. Behind the fence, ten chickens and two geese were scraping the barren soil for bugs and seeds. Until they noticed Hank. Like one man, they all raised and turned their heads.

Connor felt colder than the night in the barn when Hank thrust the bucket in his hands.

“Good luck, boy. You’ll need it. Do you know what to do?” He patted Connor’s arm.

“Y-yes.” He could do this. He’d watched Hank feeding the birds. It looked easy and Hank had survived it without injury. He swallowed and reached for the gate with a shaky hand, hesitating before he unlocked it. That was when he heard a weird, muffled noise behind him.

He turned around and almost dropped the bucket.

“Oh my god! You really fell for it! Sumo, did you see that?” Hank was holding his belly and wiped a tear from his eyes from laughing too hard. Sumo pranced around his master, barking at him as if they were sharing a joke.

Connor pressed his lips together, his fingers clenching the bucket’s handle until his hand hurt. He was still shaking but not from fear.

“They aren’t dangerous, are they?” he whispered, barely trusting his voice.

“Of course not.” Hank’s voice cracked and he inhaled deeply to calm himself down. He stopped laughing but the grin remained on his face. He put an arm around Connor’s shoulder and turned him to the gate. “You should have seen your face. That was adorable!”

“I doubt this word choice.”

“Hey, come on. It’s no fun if you’re seriously pissed. Did you really think I’d sent you to your death? Just like that?” He opened the gate and walked through it together with Connor, quickly closing it behind them. At a speed Connor wouldn’t have thought possible, the flock surrounded them. They were loud and he had to be careful not to treat on one of the birds by accident. But other than that, nothing happened to them.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. Probably not,” he finally answered Hank’s question as he watched him reaching into the bucket and threw a handful of seeds as far as he could. Like one clucking cloud of feathers, the birds lost their interest in the humans and chased after the feed.

“Like hell I would! Here, try it yourself. Not too much at once. Scatter it a bit. They aren’t dangerous to us but you still don’t want them to fight over the same square inch.”

Connor breathed out slowly, his shoulders relaxed, as did his mood. He had been foolish and was mostly angry at himself but in the end, no harm was done and his prank had put Hank in a good mood. He grabbed a handful and tossed it a few steps to the left where the flock gathered. And indeed, the birds began to separate and the noise lessened.

“Good job.” Hank patted Connor’s back and unlocked the gate. “Keep doing this for the next few minutes until the bucket is empty. Careful when you get out. They’ll be busy eating but you never know. These bastards can be sneaky. Make sure the gate’s locked when you leave. Meet me inside Stella’s stable.” After another pat, Hank left.

Connor nodded, he was too focused on his task to answer. Evidence proved that Hank’s words were true this time, yet he was wary as he watched the birds. For the moment, food seemed to be all that mattered to them and from the way they bickered about it, he concluded they might not be dangerous predators that’d take him apart, but they were not as harmless as he had initially thought.  
Finally, he dumped the last few seeds over the beasts’ heads and retreated quickly while they were still busy with their meal. The rusty latch was stuck and he fiddled with it for a few seconds but then, he was free! His tense face eased into a satisfied smile. This wasn’t difficult. He could do it again. As Hank was in a good mood, he’d ask him if feeding the chickens could be one of his chores from now on. He closed the gate, feeling good about himself.

That was when a mass of fur shot from the shadows of the corner. Connor screamed, pressing his back against the fence. The bucket dropped to the ground. Distracted by the sudden loud noise, Sumo stopped in front of Connor and moved closer. Connor didn’t move. He was trembling when the dog nudged him with his nose and sniffed.

“Hey! Everything okay?” Hank yelled from across the yard, sticking his head out of the stable door. “Sumo! Leave the boy alone!” Sumo barked and whatever he had chased before was forgotten as he trotted to his master.

“Everything okay!” Connor croaked. He picked up the bucket and put it where Hank had picked it up earlier.

“Good. You coming?”

Connor nodded, following the dog on shaky legs.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🐴💖💥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna be a short chapter, I said. Well, just 1000 more words for ~4200 total, I said. I should just keep my mouth shut :D 
> 
> And no, I don't plan to replace all future summaries with emojis, no worries!

“Did you just scream?” Hank let Connor and Sumo in and closed the stable door.

“No, you must have misheard.” Connor looked around. The horse stable wasn’t half as big as the barn. There were only two boxes, filled with tools and riding utensils, the other with hay and barrels of feed. Wooden boards were put over the concrete floor of the aisle, and those were covered with a thick layer of straw. This was Stella’s realm, offering here more space than the two boxes together.

Hank hadn’t tied her to the wall or doors so she stood freely next to him, trying to shove her nose into the pocket of Hank’s jacket, her ears pointing at him. Hank hadn’t mentioned his plan of riding out, yet she was saddled and in her harness.

“Here, give her that.” Hank pulled a few sugar cubes from the pocket Stella was after and gave Connor one. “Put it on your palm and keep your hand flat. Don’t worry, she won’t bite off your fingers. She’s not a chicken.”

Connor shot a glare at the smirking Hank and followed his instruction. He wasn’t fully at ease but after riding the cart the horse was pulling twice and surviving every time, he felt more acquainted with her than with most of the other farm animals. Slowly, he moved his hand closer. The horse stretched her long neck and before Connor could twitch back, her soft muzzle grazed over his hand and the sugar cube was gone.

“Hey!” He made a short noise that sounded close to laughing.

“Tickles, doesn’t it?” Hank chuckled and stroked her neck. “Sugar isn’t exactly healthy but once in a while, it doesn’t hurt. It’s a good bribe if she’s bridled, the cube dissolves before it becomes a choking hazard. Apples or carrots are better snacks. If you think she’s giddy and won’t listen or stand still, just give her something tasty to chew on. Got it?”

“Got it.” Standing right in front of the horse, she seemed so much bigger than when he looked down at her from the cart. But her dark eyes were gentle and the way her ears now pointed at him made her look friendly and curious.

“Word of advice: If you have something in your pockets, zip them shut. This girl would make a name of herself as an infamous pickpocket if given the chance. Come closer. Touch her.”

Indeed, she already lowered her head, gazing at Connor’s pockets.

“I’m sorry, Stella, they’re empty. I don’t have anything for you.” He reached for her nose but before he could touch her, she shoved her head under his arm, nudging his side. She wasn’t forceful but Connor hadn’t expected this and stumbled a step back. He quickly regained his balance when he heard Hank chuckle. Connor frowned. He was able to feed the dog, had even patted his head this morning. He had survived the chickens. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself in front Hank again by falling on his butt because he was too stupid to pet a friendly horse!

He dodged her head and mirrored Hank’s stance at the other side of her throat. Following his example, he stroked her neck and smiled. She was warm, her coat a little fluffy, almost like Sumo’s, just a bit shorter. Stella nickered, her hoof scraping the ground.

“Poor girl, too much love makes you nervous, eh?” Hank laughed, giving her hip a friendly slap. “Come around here, I’ll show you how to get her out of this thing.”

Connor did as he was told and the next few minutes, Hank explained to him the different elements of the harness, their purposes, and showed him how to remove it. He handed it to Connor once it came off the horse’s head.

“Think you could put it on again?”

“Yes. But I don’t want to hurt her.” He looked at the bit, finding it hard to believe horses didn’t mind that thing, although Stella hadn’t shown any sign of being bothered. Nevertheless, he feared any mistake might cause the friendly animal pain.

“You won’t if you’re careful. Come, let’s try together.” Hank put his hand on Connor’s and guided him as he harnessed the horse again. Connor sighed in relief when every strap was in its place and Stella yawned. At Hank’s command, Connor removed the harness once more, this time, on his own. His hands worked swiftly and he handed it to Hank within a moment. Hank nodded, satisfied with Connor’s work while Connor himself felt an odd sense of pride. He could do something right, although he didn’t understand why Hank insisted on him learning how to handle riding gear. Even Stella gave them a look as if she wanted to ask if they were a little crazy.

He felt more confident when they moved to the saddle and indeed, now that he didn’t worry about hurting the animal’s mouth, he quickly learned how to unbuckle and remove the saddle without having it fall off. At the second try, he put it on Stella’s back and adjusted the belt under her belly on his own.

“Good job!” Hank handed him a red halter in exchange for the heavy saddle. “Getting her into this should be a piece of cake for you. I’ll put this away.” He carried saddle and harness to the box that functioned as the tack room while Connor slipped the halter over the horse’s head. Hank was right, after handling the different straps of the harness, this was easy. He stroked her long nose and she tried to search his palm for more treats.

Connor laughed quietly when a sudden impulse took hold of him. He glanced over his shoulder. Hank was still rummaging in the tack room.

Reassured he was alone for at least another minute, Connor wrapped his arms around Stella’s neck, pressed his face against her soft fur, and closed his eyes.

He heard her nicker softly but she stayed perfectly calm. For a moment, there was only warmth and the horse’s smell. But as he continued to breathe slowly, he began to filter other things. Dry straw. Old wood. Worn leather. He smelled dust but it didn’t smell dirty. There was an odd sense of comfort coming from this rustic building and the large, docile creature. An animal that was meant to be wary and ready to take flight any moment, yet, it trusted him to pose no danger although it barely knew him.

“Ahem.” Hank clearing his throat brought him back. Connor opened his eyes and quickly took a step back, releasing the horse. He barely looked at Hank’s grin.

“Glad you two get along.” Hank slipped a rope through one of the halter’s lugs and offered Connor the end. Without thinking, Connor took it.

“What is this for?” He regretted asking when Hank laughed.

“Figured you’re not ready to take Sumo for a walk yet, so let’s start with something bigger. Hold the rope firmly but keep your hand and wrist relaxed or you’ll lose hold at the first tug.”

“Hank, wait, I can’t-”

But Hank already opened the door. A cold wind blew inside, cutting the cozy comfort apart. Hank clicked his tongue and Stella moved. Connor hurried to keep up with her before he lost the grip of the rope or she pulled him after her.

“Just one round around the yard. You did a good job with her standing still, now get used to her moving,” Hank said cheerfully and stepped outside to make room for Connor and the horse. Sniffing the fresh air and the opportunity to stretch her legs, Stella sped up, she leading Connor more than he led her.

“Holy shit! Careful!” Hank shouted a warning.

“What?” But it was too late. They were outside before Hank could answer. Stella’s enthusiasm came to an abrupt halt when two chickens appeared in front of her. She pranced around them to not step on them, giving a nervous neigh.

“Give me the rope! Fuck, SUMO! No!”

Connor had forgotten about the dog who had found a corner perfect for a nap as soon as they’d entered the stable. His sleep interrupted by the commotion, he shot outside and after the chickens.

Stella threw back her head, pulling at the rope. Connor’s hand burnt but he tightened his grip just before the end slipped out of his hand.

“Stella!” he yelled which only agitated her more.

“Connor! Stay calm!” Hank had grabbed Sumo by his collar and barely managed to remain on his feet. It took Connor a split second to take in the whole disaster. All chickens were scattered around the yard, nervously fluttering and cackling after being disturbed by the dog.

“But I… the gate… I closed it… Stella, calm down! Please, calm down!” He tried to control his voice but it broke into a high-pitched plea. At that moment, a goose appeared like out of nowhere right in front of Connor and the horse, screeching and flapping its large white wings.

That was too much for the poor horse. Stella tossed her head and squealed, tearing up her front legs and turning around mid-air.

“Stella!” Connor cried but before he realize he had lost his end of the rope, he felt a thud against his head.

“Connor!”

Blinking rapidly against the dark clouds swimming before his eyes, Connor fell.

*

“Connor!” Hank let go of Sumo who chased at once after the closest chicken. By the time he reached Connor, the android was slowly sitting up, his stare blank. A blue liquid oozed from a cut over his left eye.

“Shit. Connor, can you hear me?” He knelt down in the mud, grabbing Connor by his shoulders. He held back the urge to shake him. These androids where so human-like, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were able to suffer concussions.

“The chickens… I thought I…”

“Fuck the chickens, are you okay? Do you need a-” He broke off. A doctor? A mechanic? Oh, all gods in the heaven, might they protect him from having to call a tech support line.

“The gate… Stella! What’s with Stella?”

“She’s fine, she ran back into her stable. Look at me, Connor. How many fingers?” Finally, Connor’s eyes focused.

“Two. Why?”

“At least you aren’t blind. How’s your head? Do you feel sick?”

“Androids don’t feel sick. My head…” Connor touched the wound and stared at his blue fingers. “Oh…”

“No shit.” Hank was growing impatient. This was going too slow for his taste. He couldn’t help Connor if he was like this but he couldn’t do much on his own, Connor had to tell him what kind of help he needed.

“I’ll call Carl. Sure he knows who can help. Can you walk or do you want to stay here?”

“No… I’m okay…” Connor wiped his hand on his legs. Now his fingers were smeared with this blue stuff and mud.

“Yeah, no, buddy. Hate to tell you but you don’t exactly look like the definition of okay right now. Hell, what is this stuff?” He pulled a paper tissue from his jacket and carefully dabbed it against Connor’s forehead.

“Thirium. It’s also called blue blood as it serves similar functions. Hank, I’m really okay. Except for the cut, my body is intact and all functions run smoothly. After I blacked out, the emergency unit launched an automatic system check. The blood loss is minor and the nanocomponents in my thirium have already begun to repair the damage.”

“You sure you’re not just flinging technobabble at me to get me off your case?” To Hank’s relief, Connor’s voice now was a bit firmer, like his mind finally fully arrived in this reality. However, he didn’t fully trust Connor to tell him the truth about him.

“Hank!” Connor interrupted his thoughts, “The chickens! I’m so sorry! I really thought I closed the gate, I don’t understand…” His gaze wandered and when he spotted Sumo carefully circling an angry goose, his confused expression changed. “Sumo… he suddenly ran by and I got distracted.” He muttered more to himself than speaking to Hank and for a moment, Hank feared Connor’s unhappy face would break into tears.

“I failed.” Connor clenched his fists and hit the mud. “It was such a simple task and I failed.”

“Connor-”

“You were right, I’m useless! It was a mistake! I should never have come here, I make everything worse for you, I-!” But Hank stopped him by pressing his hand over Connor’s mouth.

“Welcome to the human experience of not being perfect at the first try. So you fucked up. And? You’re learning and I’m damn sure that’s one mistake that won’t happen again. Because that’s how shit’s done. You fall, you stand up, wipe your face, and get back into the saddle. Understood? Good,” Hank added when Connor nodded, although the look he gave Hank was far from convinced. “Now stop whining and get up.” He stood up and pulled Connor back to his feet when he accepted the hand Hank offered him.

“I’m sorry, I ruined the new clothes…”

“And that’s why you got them. Imagine this was your precious uniform. Would you want to feed the chickens in your suit tomorrow?” Now that he began to believe Connor that he wasn’t seriously hurt, Hank grinned wider at his joke than it was funny. The shock in Connor’s face didn’t make it easier to remain serious. Hell, he was just glad the kid was okay, as long as he didn’t have to organize surgery for an android, he’d be able to take care of things.

“Tomorrow?” Connor almost cried out with horror. “You want me to do this again? After what I’ve done?”

Hank sighed and pinched the back of his nose. “Did you just listen to me? Right back into the saddle. You fuck up, you try again. You feed the hell beasts tomorrow and after that, I show you how to groom Stella. Wanted to do that today, but,” he shrugged, looking around the yard, “That lesson has to wait. Anyway, you really are okay?” He skeptically glared at the cut. It really looked a lot like an injury on a human, except for the blue color. At least it had stopped bleeding so Connor really wasn’t bullshitting him, he hoped.

“Yes.” Connor lowered his head, staring at his dirty shoes. “It’s being repaired. The rate of pain is low, a two. It’s just… I don’t know how to explain.” He put a muddy hand on his chest.

“Pride. Shut up,” Hank raised a hand when Connor was about to protest. “Just take it for a fact that hurt pride hurts more than a broken bone. And now get your skinny ass inside before you circuits catch a cold.”

“But, the chickens, I need to get them back into their pen!”

“What you need, kid, is a hot shower and if you were a human, I’d say a stiff drink. Just…” His hand drew circles in the air. “Change in whatever’s most comfortable. Got it? Shower, change, and wait for me in the living room. We have to talk. No, I’m not sending you anywhere, unless you keep giving me that look whenever things don’t go smoothly.” He groaned at Connor’s panicked expression and rolled his eyes. “And now fuck off. Sumo and I got work to do. Sumo! Leave that damn bird alone, she’s too smart for you!”

Herding the poultry back to their pen was a lot easier once Sumo got tired of running after the birds and decided to listen to Hank’s commands. It also helped that he didn’t have to worry about Connor’s health. At least not too much.

He controlled the hatch twice to make sure it was really locked this time. He hadn’t lied to Connor, not closing the gate properly was a mistake nobody made twice, Hank included.

“If your new friend was human, you’d have given him a damn nasty bruise today.” He fed Stella an apple after removing the halter. “I know, I know, it wasn’t your fault. Damn feather-devils spooked your.” He patted her neck when her ears twitched. He softly talked to her while making sure she was all right and filled her feeder with an extra portion of oats.

“And you? Finally tired out?” He ruffled the fur on Sumo’s head when the dog yawned. “The boy wasn’t the only one who made things harder for me today, that’s for sure. Bit early for spring fever, my friend.” He chuckled when Sumo made a half-hearted whine. As if Sumo might as well pretend he was sorry when Hank pretended he was scolding him.

“Alright. Let’s go back and hope he hasn’t curled up in a dark corner.” But before he looked for Connor, Hank was in need of a hot shower himself. He was sweating after chasing after his chickens and geese and once he slowed down, the cold grabbed him hard. This was the best recipe for catching a but and he was by no means willing to leave the farm work to Connor’s hands while he was boiling and croaking in his bed unless he wanted Animal Farm to look like a fucking petting zoo in comparison to his.

The bathroom looked barely used. The tiles were dry and clean and the shelf stocked with clean towels. Hank could see his face too clearly for his taste in the mirror. He stroked over his beard and brushed his hair behind his ears. Damn, he was pushing the boundaries of his imagination if he kept insisting he didn’t need a good trimming. Fortunately, he had no time for that now, the most shaken android in the world and beyond was waiting for him to have a good talk.

Whatever that was supposed to be about. Hank had thought he could prepare a speech while restoring peace and order but running through the mud didn’t go well with planning motivational speeches. The shower was his last hope but the hot water warming his skin felt too good and his brain refused to work. So he focused on the heat and how his muscles slowly relaxed. Hank stretched, feelings his pine move. Then he remembered he wanted to hurry and grabbed his 2in1 shampoo&shower bottle. He’d have to get something better for his hair if he planned to keep it growing, which he had been telling himself for years but never followed through.

He soaped up his strong arms. He liked what a few years of working on a farm had done for his body. He’d gone soft around the middle before he moved here, and his arms and legs had lost the definition from his active gym years. Now they were in a greater shape than ever and while his eating habits preserved his belly, everything was firm.

“You’re a fox, Hank Anderson. A damn silver fox!” He grinned when he returned to the mirror. “Maybe being all shaggy ain’t the worst,” he muttered as he tried to work a comb through his wet, chin-long curls, “keeps the ladies from trying to put an end to my bachelor’s life.”

He dressed and was ready to leave, feeling a bit guilty for leaving the bathroom in a mess compared to the state it was when he came in.

“Fuck this, this is _my_ bathroom, in _my_ house.” One reason why he chose to live in his own was so he could do whatever he wanted how he wanted. He was willing to compromise for the sake of the animals but not for a potential partner, and especially not for an android who needed to learn how to relax.

*

Hank hadn’t made much progress with his speech planning. Maybe he should just leave it to a few generic uplifting phrases. Skill comes with practice. No one is born a master. You have nothing to fear but fear itself. All this bullshit that’d crank up his blood pressure whenever someone graced him with those bromides.

“There you are.” Stating the obvious was the bratty nephew of platitudes but what else was he supposed to use as an opener when he walked into the living room to find ‘his’ android standing stiffly in a corner? Well, at least he wasn’t curled up.

“There’s a perfectly good sofa, you know. To sit down on. It works, I tried it,” Hank continued when Connor didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t know I was allowed to use it.”

Hank inhaled deeply, turning the air into a growl as he breathed out. He wished Connor’s answer would have dripped with sarcasm but this guy was serious in his worry. Yeah, that was definitely something they needed to talk about, things couldn’t go on like this.

“Hereby I give you blanket permission to put your ass on any appropriate surface whenever you want. Shall we proceed?”

“I’m sorry.” So, at least Connor wasn’t immune to sarcasm, that was something, however, Hank would prefer it if he didn’t get such a meek reaction. How he’d get this guy to polish his spine at least a little, he had no idea.

Connor sneaked out of the corner, silent like a shadow, and sat down at the far end of the sofa. Hank pulled his armchair closer and made himself as comfortable as possible under these circumstances.

“How’s your head?” he asked, glancing at Connor’s forehead. The gash was closed and looked nasty with its dark-blue color but he didn’t see any swelling. It looked more like a bruise than a scar.

“I’m okay.” Connor carefully touched the healing wound. “The repairs should be finished in two days. The possibility of a permanently visible reminder is low.”

“Good. But Connor, if it gets work or you ever suffer serious damage and need help, you have to let me know. I don’t know shit about you guys, I’m not able to patch you up. False pride wouldn’t help anyone.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.” Connor stared at the fireplace, his shoulders tensing. Hank sighed. He could almost hear Connor beating himself up for not thinking of rekindling the fire.

“Dealing with a dead android is a bother.” Hank stood up to deal with the fire himself. Having survived a few winters on his own, he had the fire going quickly enough to create an awkward silence. “Making a call to get you help isn’t,” he finished his thought and dropped back onto his chair.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Is there any way in hell to make you stop sorry for every damn thing?” His desperation almost pained him physically and his own pleading voice almost reminded him of Sumo’s whining when he wanted a second treat.

“I don’t know!” Connor answered, now sounding equally desperate. Hank was caught in the odd place between laughing, wanting to cry, and wanting to punch something.

“Okay, okay, let’s cut the chase here.” Hank rubbed his temples, hoping to massage away the pain in his skull. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could pour himself a nice drink, and damn, he needed a nice drink. “You said you want to stay here. You also said you want to help me. And you said you can learn new things. You don’t want to be a freeloader, that’s appreciated. But you gotta trust me when I say you can learn things like feeding chickens and taking care of a horse. And not throw a tantrum whenever things don’t work out t your first try.”

“Tantrum?!” The indignation of Connor’s tone gave Hank hope this kid wasn’t a lost cause. “You don’t understand! I can’t fail! If I’m told to do something, I have to do it, or-” Connor stopped talking. Hank had held his breath. Now it was getting interesting.

“Or what?”

But Connor remained silent, his fingers clawing into his pants.

“Or what, Connor? Speak, goddammit!” Hank shut his mouth, pressing his jaws so forcefully together that his teeth hurt. As much as he wasn’t for sugarcoating - he preferred his interpretation of a direct approach, he guessed using this way of getting information was counterproductive to the behavior he wanted from Connor.

“I’m sorry. Failure means punishment. That’s the consequence.” Connor sat in a rigid pose, now for the first time sounding robotic. That wasn’t good. Hank had expected an answer like that, it added another piece to the puzzle and he hadn’t liked the picture that was forming at all. Yet, he needed the last missing pieces but he had to find another way to get them from Connor. Barking orders was effective for all the wrong reasons in this case.

“Not here, Connor. We all make mistakes. All I expect from you is to learn from them and do better next time.” Hank did his best to speak in a calm, reassuring manner, but that was a voice he hadn’t used a lot in the past few years, aside from his animals. “Can’t stop you from feeling bad about it, but I’m not gonna punish you for an honest mistake. That’d be just-” He paused for a moment, having more than one very clear word in mind. “Sick. I’m not a sick man, Connor. Not like the guys you lived with before.” He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘who owned you’, even though this was just a shot in the dark. But he had aimed well.

Connor’s head jerked around, facing him with wide eyes. His mouth was twitching and for a moment, Hank feared Connor’s hands would tear the fabric he was holding to apart.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about. My memory of any previous ownership was completely deleted after I was returned to Cyberlife. I’m sorry for leaving the gate open. I really am. I promise it won’t happen again. It’s past noon. If you allow, I’d like to prepare lunch for you.”

Hank looked at him for a moment. He had his answers but hell knew what he was supposed to do with them. He wasn’t a therapist, and certainly not one specialized on androids. This was going a piece of work and although he had always prided himself for appreciating a good challenge, he doubted he was the right man for this job. Either way, he had his one shot, he wouldn’t get out more of Connor right now.

“Sure, thank you.” Hank raised when Connor stood up. “But I’ll help you. I don’t want to have to pick tomatoes from a sandwich because nobody told you that’s disgusting.”

Connor nodded but Hank could tell he wasn’t excited that he couldn’t escape Hank so easily. Hank wouldn’t have minded a few moments for himself to sort his thoughts - and get his damn drink. However, after the chaos outside and the heavy talk, his stomach indeed felt hungry. Lunch didn’t sound like a bad idea.

They were quiet as they stood next to each other in the kitchen, both slicing vegetables to throw them into the hot pan. Neither Hank’s nor Connor’s knife were sharp enough to cut the tension between them but Hank was surprised how easily they worked together. Maybe it was because, although he liked cooking, it was nice to delegate the boring steps. Or he was just really hungry by now.

He washed his hands and took care of Sumo’s bowl, leaving it to Connor to crack to eggs over the sizzling veggies. He thought of switching tasks. Sooner or later, these two had to get used to each other, Hank was not willing to keep them out of each other’s hair forever. But the boy had been through enough today, so he gave him a little break.

“It’s probably best if we take care of the birds together for the next two, three times,” he broke the silence while filling the coffee machine. “Would mean you have to get up before breakfast.”

“That’s no problem. I’m usually awake shortly after you get up.” Finally, Connor sounded less strained. Hank smiled in defeat. Looked like he had to thank Cyberlife not only for sending the wrong kind of assistant, the one they did send needed to be taken by the hand through learning new things like any damn human apprentice. So much for androids making his life easier.

“That’s good.” And in comparison, it was. Teaching the android equivalent of a city kid wasn’t on his bucket list but he could handle that a lot better than cracking Connor’s mental shells.

“Thank you.” He made himself comfortable at the table with a fresh cup of coffee and the plate of vegetable omelet Connor handed him. “Wanna sit down?” He pointed his fork at the empty share but Connor shook his head. Hank shrugged. “Well, guess that means you have the rest of the day for yourself.”

“Until dinner,” Connor corrected him. Hank almost dropped his mug when he saw a hint of a smile on Connor’s face. Damn, over the last hours, he had forgotten Connor could actually smile and how much it changed his face.

“Yeah, dinner.” He shoved a generous piece of omelet into his mouth. “Ah, before I forget. You remember Carl invited us tomorrow, right? Whatever you plan to do, keep in mind we’re away most of the evening.”

“Us?”

It almost amused Hank that Connor actually dropped the pan into the sink at the revelation.

“Yep. Persistent old fart, that one. Trust me, I don’t want to go either but he threatened if we don’t show up, he’d come here. And it’s much easier to make a quick escape than getting an unwanted guest out of your house.”

“But why us? I’m not his friend. It… it’d be impolite to intrude and waste his resources.”

“Aren’t you adorable when you talk like that.” Hank rolled his eyes, feeling much more comfortable with his good, old sarcasm. “He said he wanted you to come. Gotta say I’m surprised. I expected you to like it. Hanging out with your android friends.”

“Markus and Simon are there?”

Hank cast a suspicious glance in Connor’s direction but he had his back turned to Hank. He could only see his shoulders moving from viciously scrubbing the pan.

“Huh? Not getting along? Didn’t look like that in the store. Or when you chat with Simon. Doesn’t matter. If I have to go, you have to, too. Cling together, swing together.” Now he was actually looking forward to the visit. He didn’t know much about this Markus guy but that Simon seemed to be a nice enough fellow. He and Connor didn’t have to believe Hank didn’t know what they were talking about. He didn’t eavesdrop but he had caught enough of their conversations to know that Simon was genuinely concerned about Connor’s wellbeing. He seemed to think Hank was routinely beating Connor up. Connor’s lack of enthusiasm for meeting his android friends was the next puzzle piece and if that required going on a bender with Carl, so be it.

“Is that an order?” Connor asked and it was obvious which answer he was hoping for but Hank wouldn’t think of doing him that favor.

“No, it’s not an order.” He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, and grinned when Connor sighed with relief. “It’s common courtesy. We don’t want to be rude, do we?”

“Oh, okay. I understand. Tomorrow evening. I’ll have the chores done by then.”

“Excellent.” Satisfied with himself, he dedicated his full attention to his lunch. He had won this small battle and who knew, maybe it wasn’t the worst idea to become Carl’s drinking buddy. Then, getting all the drinks he needed to survive this war wouldn’t financially ruin him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some friendships happen on first sight, some need some liquid convincing, and other friendships are like a too abruptly removed bandaid and require yelling and the wish to never talk to each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing witty to say aside from please don't think I'm bashing any characters (aside from Zlatko). It's really difficult to give Markus flaws when he's presented as so flawless in the game. I promise he's not one of the bad guys!
> 
> On the bright(?!) side, I think the "angst"-tag is finally somewhat justified :D

The next day started more successful than the last finished. Connor was ready by the time Hank was about to go outside. He was nervous when Hank handed him the bucket for the chickens and shoved him into their pen after letting them out. But Hank waited behind the closed gate and watched him and Connor visibly relaxed and completed his task without any mishaps.

He helped Hank feeding Stella after greeting her by stroking her nose when she gave him a curious nudge. Hank took his time to explain to him the different ways to feed the horse, what she preferred and why she never, under no circumstances, was to have dried bread and that he shouldn’t let strangers feed her. Connor listened, nodded, and when Hank was ready to move on to the cows, he excused himself and went back to the house to prepare Hank’s breakfast.

Hank let out a long breath when he was alone again. He was confident that in a few days, Connor would be able to do take over these chores on his own when Hank asked him but his nods and smile didn’t mask how tensed Connor was. Hank couldn’t tell what exactly it was, if it was between them, or Connor’s fear to make another mistake, or if he was fearing the presence of the animals after yesterday.

By the time they were on their way to Carl’s, it was becoming worse.

“Are you okay?” Hank asked when Connor’s feet wouldn’t stop twitching while his fingers twisted one of his gloves hard enough for Hank to fear he’d tear it into halves.

“Of course. It’ll be nice to see them again,” Connor answered, staring at the path ahead.

“Yeah, very nice.” Hank shut up after this and focused on maneuvering Stella around frozen puddles. Winter would arrive any day. The soil had become hard last night and it didn’t warm up enough throughout the day to soften it again.

Connor didn’t want this visit, so much was obvious, and he had that in common with Hank. Why again where they out here? Ah, yes, correct, because Connor had looked like he was about to jump on a chair when Sumo ran towards him to greet him this morning and yet insisted that he, the mighty non-deviant android wasn’t capable of being scared.

He didn’t blame Connor for reacting how he did, Sumo had behaved like an over-sized puppy gone out of control yesterday, that this didn’t help a person who was anxious around dogs wasn’t rocket science. However, it didn’t make their living together easier if for every step they took forward, Connor fell two steps back.

Hank had never seen himself as an android person, to a point that he’d swear he’d rather bite a bullet once he got too old to take care of himself before ending in one of those retirement homes where human caretakers had been replaced by androids. He saw the benefits - Carl Manfred was one good example - but it wasn’t for him, no.

When he ordered the android farm help, he had expected to see it maybe twice a day for a few minutes, when he told it what to do for the day. Now the android he got not only made everything more complicated than was before, Hank had to take care of him. He was pretty damn certain he didn’t read anything like that in the fine print of Cyberlife’s terms of service.

But ignoring a guy in need was also against anything Hank ever stood for, so here they were, in front of a mansion that easily rivaled Adronikov’s. He glanced at Connor who seemed even twitchier than before when he climbed off the cart and assumed the sight provoked similar thoughts in him.

A young redhead dressed in comfortable work clothes ran towards them and welcomed them with a flurry of fluid motions of her hand.

“You can hear me? Are you responsible for the horses?” Hank didn’t understand sign language aside from a few universal signs but this kid had written a love for horses written all over her eager face. She nodded, rubbing Stella’s nose, whose ears told Hank the affection was mutual.

“Take good care of her, okay? And keep your pockets closed or she will find a way to squirrel her big head inside in the hope for treats.”

The girl laughed, gave him a thumbs up, and began to free the horse from the cart. Good, one worry less. Stella handled waiting outside in front of the cart like a trooper but Hank still felt guilty whenever it happened. He left the two new best friends to their own devices. Connor was standing by the cart, upright and stiff, not moving towards the house until Hank went ahead.

“At least it’s not as tacky as certain other dens,” Hank whispered in an attempt to lighten the mood. Connor nodded.

“Yes. The general architecture is more streamlined and functional, yet, not barren. It’s inspired by a style popular in Europe around the Victorian area, especially with the wealthy, but not noble upper class, like wealthy merchants.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Hank was a lot but not a man of architecture. It was a nice, big house, too big for him, but at least not swanky.

Simon opened and greeted them with a smile, “You must be freezing, come in!” He took their coats and pointed at two pairs of slippers. “You can keep yours on if you prefer but Carl wants you to know it’s easier to warm your feet up in these.”

Hank wrestled with his pride. His resolution was to not accept more handouts from Carl than he could help it and new-looking fur slippers certainly weren’t acceptable. But damn, they looked comfortable, especially after coming in from the cold. He shrugged and took off his boots. He’d find a less warm and comfortable hill to die on.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Connor rejected the offer with a polite tilt of his head. Hank caught him glancing at the door behind them while Simon put their coats and scarfs away.

He shot Connor a glare that hopefully translated to _Way to make me look like a moocher here, thank you very much._ If Connor thought he could make a run for it and leave him here if things went downhill he was mistaken!

“Hank! Connor! How nice to see you!” Carl waved at them and moved his wheelchair towards them the moment they stepped into the saloon. His skinny legs were covered by a thick wool blanket and he was wearing a scarf over his shoulder, despite the cozy temperature. Carl was always chipper and willing to joke when Hank ran into him and even now there was a hint of mischief in his face. It was easy to forget he was an old man and that the harsh winters in this area took a worse toll on him every year. Not that Hank cared much but he wasn’t deaf or blind.

“The air smells like snow since last night. I worried the weather might change and you wouldn’t make it.” Carl didn’t waste any time and poured Hank and himself a drink as soon as everyone had settled around a square wooden coffee table. Connor sat next to Hank on one of the two sofas, Simon had taken a seat on an armchair.

“Yeah, it’s fucking cold. Water’s beginning to freeze.” What had become of him and his peaceful, isolated life? If somebody had told him he’d drink whiskey in the company of the village’s richest guy and two androids, talking about the weather, he’d have invited the joker to a beer after punching his face. He took a hopefully not too obvious sniff before nipping on his glass. Good stuff. Earthen, round sweetness, mild smoke, without the bite the cheap stuff he used to buy had. It went down his throat smoothly and barely left the familiar afterburn. He glanced at Carl, copying his pace. He didn’t plan to crawl up his ass but he also refused to look like some low-brow philistine who couldn’t tell a fine, aged drink from the liter bottles he’d get at the gas station.

“Say, Simon, where is Markus? He’s still busy playing the sexy cowboy around the horses?” Carl turned to Simon, smiling innocently when the android avoided looking at him, showing every sign of embarrassment except for blushing. Connor could blush, he suddenly thought, with an odd sense of pride. Not as hard than most humans but Hank had noticed his skin getting slightly darker around his nose when he was flustered.

“Yes. He wanted to feed them after riding Ronia. He promised to be back in time but…” Simon shrugged but Carl laughed.

“He probably forgot the time around them. Wouldn’t be the first time. You know,” he turned to Hank, giving him a conspiratorial wink, “Markus might deny it all he wants and insist that androids don’t forget the time. He definitely does when his mind is wrapped up in a task he enjoys. Isn’t that right, Simon?”

Poor Simon now desperately stared at the glasses on the table. Hank was amused how easily he could read the inner conflict from the android’s face. Simon didn’t want to talk back to Carl but also couldn’t stab Markus in the back. It almost reminded him of certain other androids with an expressive face, only that Simon didn’t try to cover it up in denial.

“I think I’ll go after him and see what’s up. And tell him to greet our guests.” The last part sounded surprisingly strict. “I’m sorry. I promise he usually has better manners. Now, if you excuse me, we’ll be right back.” He smiled at Hank and Connor and stood up. This was the opportunity Hank was waiting for, although he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Hey, Connor, why don’t you go with him?” He gave Connor a nudge. “Hanging out with them is sure more fun for you than listening to us old men.” Hank purified his mouth with more whiskey. He hated talking like that but the Greater Good. It was all for the Greater Good.

“That’s a great idea! Tell Markus to show you the horses. Your girl is a beauty but it won’t hurt to meet other horses.” Carl nodded and Hank wanted to bite his head off. The horses, why hadn’t he thought of that? Interacting with more than one horse was certainly something he’d have to tell Connor sooner and later. But maybe the Greater Good was already taking shape and Hank wouldn’t have the chance to teach Connor much more about horsemanship.

“Are you sure? I can stay here in case you need me.” Connor didn’t move an inch, looking at Hank with a look that reminded Hank of Sumo when he was begging for leftovers, specifically the ‘no dog should eat this, under no circumstances’ kind.

“I’m good and you won’t be gone long anyway. Go. Have fun with your friends. Check on Stella when you see her, if she has everything she needs.” At the mention of the horse, Connor finally got up and hesitantly followed Simon.

“No offense,” Hank said once the androids had left the room. “The little ginger looked like she knew what she was doing. Connor just needed some convincing.”

Carl chuckled, dismissing Hank’s concern by refilling their tumblers. “Yeah, Zoey knows her way around horses. We’ve suspected she might secretly be one. To health, friendships, and freedom!” They raised their glasses to the toast. Hank was grateful for the short break drinking this good stuff gave him.

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Manfred?” He asked once he had put his drink down.

“Please, it’s Carl. What kind of friend I’d be if I insisted on formalities from your side?”

“Yeah, that’s actually that. We barely spoke since I moved here. Not that I’m ungrateful, this stuff is amazing.” He turned the tumbler between his fingers, watching the soft orange liquid move like oil. “Why are you so persistent we’re friends? I’m not quite your league.” He glanced around the room. Compared to Andronikov’s saloon, this place was cluttered. Not messy but there was no more free space than necessary. Walls seamed with books. A piano. The large cutting-edge TV was a breach of style but it paled in the shadow of a damn life-sized giraffe. There were so many knick-knacks from all over the world and they all promised a story behind their existence, if Hank asked for them they’d stay here until next year. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if a secret room was behind one of the bookshelves, or a trapdoor under the carpet.

This room was an adventure playground for kids who watched too much Indiana Jones and damned would he be if he denied he once was one of them.

“Hank, why don’t you just speak your mind?” Carl sighed and leaned back in his wheelchair. “You wonder what this old rich asshole wants from a simple, earnest guy like you. Don’t worry, I’m not insulted.” He smiled as he cut off Hank’s attempt at protesting. “That’s exactly what I respect about you. Well, I don’t think you’re simple. I think you know what hard work means and how tiring, and sometimes dangerous, suits are. Showboats. Dazzlers. Shoddy pricks with fake smiles that have more money and power than it’s good for society. I’m not surprised you lump me with those people.” He spat the last two words out with disgust. “I’m not from money, Hank. I worked for all this.” He gestured around the room. “Hard. I don’t know how I managed to squeeze that hard work in between being a high-for-a-living squatter. Maybe it was just luck. I’ll not lie to you, I love being rich. And not just for the good drinks.” He gently shook his glass at Hank before taking a sip. “You get used to the big and small comforts. That’s how it is. But I miss the company of the people around me when I was a nobody.”

“A fellow nobody, eh?” Hank snorted in his drink. “Have been called worse.”

“Oh, no, Hank. You aren’t a nobody. Not where you came from. Your face might not appear in the big fancy magazines. But are a legend among your own. Back in Detroit.”

“Hey, what happened in Detroit stays in Detroit!” The whiskey’s smooth taste masked its strength. Before the now third drinks, he’d have stood up, grabbed Connor, and left without another word. “I’m nothing but a simple farmer.”

“If it makes you happy. No, I’m not cynical. I believe that this village, that's literally forgotten about time, is a place to become happy. Away from what we should have left behind so much sooner.” His words wielded a sense of whimsy that made Hank laugh.

“You sure you’re an artist? Not a poet?”

“Don’t mock me, Hank, you know I’m right!” Carl joined the laughter, finishing his drink. Hank was impressed, he hadn’t expected this fragile husk of a man to hold more than one whiskey, let alone three. And yet, Carl didn’t even slur and his eyes were clear and present. “I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you with my brazen request for friendship like a child. You’ll understand when you’re older. Kids don’t have a concept of tomorrow, that’s why the decision of friend or not is made in seconds. Us old folks, we’re too aware of tomorrow. We don’t have time to waste.” He leaned over the table and put his bony hands on Hank’s. “Do this old man a favor and come often. Give me a chance. Not all of us rich fucks are assholes like Zlatko.”

“Ugh.” Hank was almost getting into a solemn mood when Carl had to mention that piece of shit. “What’s his deal anyway?”

“The up to no good kind of deal. He’s a disgrace and if you ever decide to burn his place to the ground I’ll be happy to serve as your alibi.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Looking at the fire in Carl’s eyes, Hank had no doubt he’d set Zlatko himself on fire personally if he had the opportunity, just by glaring at him.

“Let’s talk about nicer things.” Carl was back to his cheerful manner. “Although I’m glad you didn’t leave Connor with him. Zlatko’s exactly the kind of person he should never be alone in a room with.”

“Yeah, figured that much. That’s why he’s still with me.” How the hell did Carl know about their visit at Zlatko’s, and why they were there? Hank decided against asking, he didn’t want to know.

“How’s it going with him? I guess he’s still denying his a deviant?”

*

Connor tried to stay behind Simon but he seemed determined to walk next to him.

“I’m really okay,” Connor repeated for the third or fourth time. “Hank doesn’t mistreat me.”

“Then why don’t you tell me what happened to your face?” He pointed at the cut above Connor’s eye. “This isn’t a minor scratch if it looks like this. Connor, if he hurt you we can help you. But you have to talk to me. I don’t understand why you hide it if nothing bad happened?”

“I told you, I fell. It was unfortunate but it wasn’t Hank’s fault.” Nothing of this was a lie but the details were too embarrassing and too revealing. Androids didn’t make mistakes like that. If Sumo hadn’t scared him, he’d have paid attention to the gate and the whole incident wouldn’t have happened. Under no circumstances, Simon or anyone else could know what really happened. This was why he didn’t want to come here. Simon’s good intentions came hand in hand with persistent curiosity. He wished he could come up with an excuse to return to Hank but as Hank was obviously well, telling Simon Hank demanded him to be close would only deepen his suspicions.

“Suit yourself.” Simon shrugged and opened the door to the backyard. “But you better come up with a better story for Markus.”

“I’ll consider it.” Connor pressed his jaws together. He didn’t want to justify himself all the time. Simon and Markus could be pleasant company, he was sure of that, if they only stopped interrogating him. In fact, he’d prefer it if they didn’t involve them more in their conversations than necessary. Being around friendly faces would be enough.

Simon changed the topic to horses. The horse barn was larger than most of the houses he had seen when they had driven to Simon’s store the other day. While the mansion had an old-timey flair, this building was new and modern.

“Does Mr. Manfred ride?”

Simon shook his head, “Not anymore. He used to until a few years ago from what I’ve heard. He barely even comes out here anymore, especially not during fall and winter. Zoey and her sisters take care of the horses. Markus helps whenever he can. I’m sure if Carl’s health would allow it, he and Markus would move in with the horses in a heartbeat.” Simon’s laugh was low and gentle and Connor sensed his affection for Markus and Carl. It had to be nice to live like that. Liking and trusting each other, humans and androids.

Hank believed Connor would learn to be helpful with the work on the farm but Connor doubted that counted as trust. And even if it did, he couldn’t return it. No matter how much he wanted to.

“Why are you here today? You live in the village, don’t you?” Connor directed the conversation away from his thoughts.

“Yes but believe it or not, I’m free to go where I want whenever I want when I’m not working.” He gave Connor a look that delivered what he thought about Hank loud and clear. “Markus and Carl are my best friends,” he continued when Connor didn’t react. “I come here often and when I heard you were visiting, I took the afternoon off to help them with hosting. And to see if you’re all right. I really wish you were.”

“I am. Thank you for your concern. I appreciate it and assure you there is nothing to worry about.” Lately, it was like he was repeating himself over and over again. Everyone insisted to tease him about deviancy and all Simon really wanted to talk about with him was whether Hank was beating him. He shuddered at the thought of Hank raising his hand.

“Will you look at this idiot!” Simon suddenly laughed. They had entered the fenced area around the barn and a rider galloped around the building and towards them.

“He knows exactly how good he looks on horseback.” Simon sighed, speaking to himself and staring at the rider as if he had just forgotten about Connor’s existence. It was hard not to smile at the blunt look of affection on Simon’s face, so Connor focused on the rider. Of course, it was Markus. And Simon was right. In his long coat, the black pants and boots, he’d have looked impressive standing on the ground. But on the back of the horse, sitting in a relaxed pose that oozed ease and control as he barely seemed to tug the reins to steer the horse into their direction - it was a sight to behold. Awe-inspiring, if not beautiful, and scary as Connor wasn’t certain what Markus really thought of him. Their encounter in the store was polite but luke-warm at best and being on the bad side of someone like Markus was a terrifying thought.

“Simon! And Connor!” Markus brought the horse to a halt and jumped off, with the fluid elegance of a seasoned horseman. He offered Connor his hand and smiled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you already arrived.”

“It’s okay. Nice to see you.” Connor put on his politest smile and shook his hand, inwardly squirming under the firm grip.

“Likewise. Sorry I wasn’t there to give you an appropriate welcome. I have forgotten the time. This girl has that effect on you.” His laugh was warm and friendly as he patted the horse’s neck. Connor, feeling a pang of guilt towards Stella, liked at once how she looked. Her head was brown except for one white ear, and the rest of her coat looked like somebody had randomly painted large patches of brown and white on her. But what awakened the impulse to touch her were her eyes. They were so much unlike Stella’s calm and patient eyes.

“You’re a liar. And a blowhard!” Simon shoved Markus away and punched his arm. “You never forget the time. You wanted to show off your good looks and riding skills!”

“What? Me? Okay, maybe a little. But Ronia was restless, she needed some exercise, so,” a mischievous grin appeared on his face and he tilted his head, “Two birds, one stone? Would that earn me your forgiveness?”

“Get out of here, you can’t pull off puppy eyes to save your life!” But Simon was all bright laughter and forgiveness was no consideration as he hadn’t been angry in the first place.

Connor smiled at the interaction and turned his attention back to the horse.

“Whoa, whoa, careful, Connor!” Markus’ cheerful banter flashed to alarm. “She’s still skittish with people she doesn’t know, she might bite if-”

“I’m fine.” Connor still displayed the neutral smile. “I know what I’m doing.” He was well aware that nothing was further from the truth. He had touched one horse in his life, the friendliest beast he could imagine, and he wasn’t so stupid to assume that made him an expert. However, being in the presence of Markus’ perfection and standing at the sideline while these two flirted with each other, he felt boisterous. But that wasn’t all. When he offered her his flat hand and she carefully stretched her throat to sniff on it, he moved closer with unexpected confidence. Despite Markus’ warning, and before he could do anything to stop him, Connor put his hand on her nose. Her ears twitched sideways but she let him.

“Would you look at that.” Simon chuckled, nudging Markus’ side. “Looks like you have the title horse whisperer from now on.”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

Connor felt Markus staring at him but ignored him. He gently stroked the horse’s nose.

“Hello, Ronia.” Hearing her name, her ears twitched forward, now pointing at Connor. She lowered her head and rubbed her muzzle against Connor’s shoulder who, not expecting her to come this close, was pushed a step back. “Hey!” He laughed and began to scratch her between her ears. His attempt to show off was forgotten.

“Want to give her a treat?” Markus reached for his pocket but Connor shook his head.

“Thank you but I have some with me.” He pulled a sugar cube from his jacket and before he fully opened his hand, Ronia snatched it from his palm, causing the three androids to chuckle.

“She really likes you.” Markus rubbed the back of his head, shaking his head in disbelief and astonishment.

“Yes!” Connor had to fight to keep his face under control and to withstand the urge to hug the horse. There was no need to give these two more ammunition against him that they’d definitely use to prove his deviancy to him. Also, Markus didn’t seem to share his and Simon’s excitement over Ronia warming up to Connor so quickly. He glanced at Markus, searching his face for any sign of hostility. “Is it okay for you?”

“What? Yes, of course that’s okay!” Markus laughed and as if he had just become aware of the tension, he snapped out of it. His voice was friendly and genuine when he put a hand on Connor’s back. “It’s just unexpected. She came to us last spring and bit everyone getting close to her for weeks. It took until the end of summer until she’d let me on her back. She’s fine with Simon, Carl, the sisters and me, but strangers… Sorry if I came across a little jealous. It’s on me, and not your fault.”

“See?” Simon put his arm around Markus’ waist. “He is a good guy. Just not perfect.”

“Hey!” Markus gasped in fake protest but then he paused. His forehead creased, he stared at Connor. “What happened to your face?”

Connor shrunk away from Markus’ hand, jerking his head to the other side before he could touch him.

“An accident. It’ll be fully repaired tomorrow.”

“What kind of accident can cause a cut that needs this long to heal?” Markus’ voice was rising along with his temper. He launched forward, grabbing Connor hard on the shoulder and forcing him around to face him.

“Let go of me!” Connor slapped the hand away and pushed Markus back. “It was an accident. I fell and-”

“You fell. Yeah, sure.”

“Markus!” Simon rushed between them, holding Markus back.

“Come on, Simon. That’s the oldest lie in the world. Connor, nobody has the right to hurt you!” Markus leaned past Simon, the fire in his eyes making Connor take another step back. “Drop the act for one moment, okay? It is not right to abuse us. Especially when we’re self-aware. You deserve rights, Connor, and safety. You don’t deserve to be yelled at and hit. Just one word from you and Carl will kick Anderson out and you can stay here. We can protect you from him!”

“Can you now?” Connor inhaled deeply, scorn burning inside him and rising to the surface faster than he could control it. The one thing stopping him from screaming back at Markus was the nervous horse next to him who didn’t like the change of tone from her master at all. “First off,” Connor hissed, “the only one yelling at me is you. Second, it was like I said. Stella got scared, reared, I lost my balance and she hit me with her hoof. Stop talking badly about Hank. _He_ dropped everything to see if I’m okay. _He_ wanted to find someone to repair me and I had to assure him that’s not necessary. Although I’m just a burden to him, he teaches me to help him with the animals, how to tend to horses. And when I don’t want to talk he leaves me alone. I don’t need _your_ protection. Hank already protected me from Zlatko, and from Cyberlife when he decided to keep me although…” His throat tightened and he had to swallow hard to press the words out. “Although he doesn’t even want me.”

Simon’s face blushed and was darkened by a fierce scowl when he turned his head to glare at Markus. Meanwhile, Markus was dumbfounded. Connor recognized regret and shame from his expression and body language but he didn’t care.

“If you excuse me, I have to see if my owner needs my assistance.” He quickly pressed his forehead against the horse’s throat, he didn’t trust his voice enough to say another word.

“Connor, I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry. Please-”

Connor believed him. Through all his anger, he sensed that Markus wasn’t a bad person. He meant well but in his resolution to do the right thing he got it all wrong. But that didn’t change anything. Connor had enough of him and also of Simon, who had been so insistent on him and Markus meeting that Connor suspected this confrontation was planned. His anger began to hurt him from inside. They could have gotten along. He had hoped for Simon’s friendship.

But Connor would never be able to recover from his outburst, he had no hope of ever rationalizing it away to convince them he wasn’t a deviant. And right now, he didn’t want to.

“No, it’s enough. Let him go.”

He hears Simon talking to Markus as he was almost running back to the main building. He slammed the door shut behind him and hurried through the corridors until he arrived at the door leading to the saloon. His hand stopped an inch before the handle. His fingers were shaking.

Faint voices came from the room on the other side but they seemed worlds away. The corridor was silent. No wind, no birds, no horses. He was alone and in the silence, the torrent of his wordless thoughts broke over him. His legs gave in. Connor sank to the floor and it took all the coldness of the tiles to break through his trembling and stop him from crying.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patience is important but it's getting complicated when fear and pressure break a person faster than patience can do its work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I distinctly remember it was in the bleak Januarember, when I first thought of the idea behind this fic and thought, heeeey, this could be harmless, easy-going fun. Yeah...   
> I can't help it, I love me some hurt&comfort and angst! And horses. In case you haven't noticed. 
> 
> I'm sorry there's again so much dialogue! I already made a rough layout for the next chapter to make sure they'll actually do something while doing all the talking :')

“And that’s it. You’ve seen it yourself.” Hank ran his hand through his hair. He had combed it before they left for the visit but it was back to its usual messy state before he was half into telling his story. “No doubt he’s deviant but he’d deny it while crying and screaming in your face.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to miss.” Carl rubbed his chin. He had listened in silent until Hank was finished. “The guys and I talked about it after your shopping trip. And I agree with you. Connor has been through a lot before he came to you and it’s obvious it has to do with his deviancy.”

“No shit.” Hank was over manners and modesty and poured himself another drink. All this talking made him thirsty and he needed the alcohol to burn the sick feeling in his stomach away. Connor had only lived with him for a few days but hearing himself narrate all the incidents at once made him aware of how fucked up the situation was. “Can’t say I’ve given him the warmest welcome. But how was I supposed to expect this? Don’t get me wrong, I feel sorry for the boy. Damn sorry.” He licked the whiskey from his lips and, glass still in his hand stood up. Pacing up and down the room helped him think. All this was really bad.

“Hank, forgive me but let’s not sugarcoat things.” Carl steepled his fingers and frowned. “I know you worked in the law force. You have experience with victims of the most disgusting crimes. You’ve already made your conclusion based on his behavior, haven’t you?”

Hank stopped in his track and slammed the glass on a nearby shelf, upsetting several books. His back was turned to Carl; if he faced him now he’d shout.

“Of fucking course I did. And I hate it! The one day, everything’s business as usual, the next, there’s this guy in your home, seeing nothing in you but the asshole that’s beaten him, sic his dog on him, and who knows what else whenever something goes wrong. Hell, not even go wrong. If something isn’t perfect and pristine all the time!” He fell silent for a moment as it took him all his willpower to stop himself from kicking that ugly floor vase that probably cost more than his house.

“And now?” Carl asked gently when Hank’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Yeah, good question. What now. Fuck if I knew.” He walked back and dropped onto the sofa. He reached for his glass but it was still on the shelf. His sigh was more of a deep, angry growl. “Didn’t leave Detroit for this. Wanted to get away from all that shit.” He leaned against the back of the sofa and covered his face with his hands, rubbing his tired eyes. “And this is even worse. Talking to abuse victims always does something to you. You just can’t drink it away and everything’s like before. And that was when we’d give them a list of numbers for clinics or counseling and sent them on their way. Don’t want to sound harsh, but what happened after wasn’t our problem.”

“Well, and now Connor is your problem.”

Hank snorted at the biting sarcasm. “Yeah, and that’s his problem. What am I supposed to do, Carl? Win his trust? Make him talk? Tell him it’s not his fault? Might feel nice for the moment but you and I are smarter men to believe that would solve everything.”

“So, what do you plan to do?”

“Dunno. I just know I’m not a fucking therapist.” Hank’s shoulders dropped and he was kneading his hands. It was difficult to just blurt out what he wanted to say but inching towards what had to be said was torture.

“You’re in good company, Hank. Android therapists don’t exist yet. And as long as those in charge refuse to see them as people, this won’t change.” The faint, sad smile made Carl look years older. “So, what is it, your solution? You have one, haven’t you?”

Hank raised his head and smiled grimly.

“I’m not sure I like how much you know.”

“Oh, please!” Carl laughed, holding up his hands. “Don’t kill me because I know too much. I have a whole life ahead of me!”

“Dumbass.” The word slipped past Hank’s lips too quickly for him to have a chance to hold it back but Carl only made an amused snorting noise. Hell, it felt good to be stupid after all this heavy talking. But no, it wasn’t over yet. And now was as good a time to say it as any.

“Carl, you’ve been friends with deviants for a while. You know them. I thought maybe you-”

Carl’s hand shot up to interrupt him but it wasn’t necessary. Hank shut up the second it knocked at the door.

“Come in, come in!” Carl answered. Slowly, the door opened and Connor came inside. A shudder ran down Hank’s spine and he felt the blood leaving his face. They hadn’t bothered keeping their voices down. If Connor had heard them…

“I’m sorry, I only wanted to see if I’m needed. And I’m afraid I didn’t clean my shoes well enough before I returned.” Connor looked at the pair of mud-covered shoes he was holding. “If you tell me where I can find a mop I’ll clean the floor before we leave.”

“Please, Connor, you insult me!” Carl gasped and waved him over. “You’re my guest and what kind of host would I be if I let you clean? Don’t worry about it. Somebody brings fresh dirt inside a few times every day and nobody died yet. Come, get your feet on the carpet. Was it nice outside? Do you like our horses?”

Connor hesitated a second and Hank expected him to protest and insist on cleaning the mansion from the basement to the roof at this instant. But at the questions, he joined them and sat down right next to Hank. So closely, their knees almost touched. Hank glanced at his face. Connor wore this calm, neutral expression that’d only allow a polite smile while he did everything to avoid direct eye-contact. Okay, something was up. He considered asking him but Connor was already speaking.

“It’s windy and about to rain any moment. I only saw Ronia. She’s a beautiful horse and very gentle. I mean, she doesn’t compare to Stella.” He cast a quick, shy look at Hank who wanted to laugh at Connor’s loyalty towards his horse.

“It’s okay, you can love more than one horse. Stella won’t mind.” He patted Connor’s leg and he relaxed.

“Okay.”

“And what brought you back inside? I’m sure you’d have liked to see the other horses.” Carl leaned forward. Hank admired him for switching to being the curious, friendly host after what they just discussed. Connor looked at his hands that he had folded on his lap.

“I’m sure I would have. But my purpose is to assist Hank. I wanted to make sure everything is to his satisfaction.”

“Everything’s just dandy.” Hank snorted, now glad he didn’t have a drink or he’d have choked. Everything was so far from satisfying, it wasn’t funny anymore. And here the reason for all his recent problems had to come and interrupt them just before he had the chance to solve everything to everyone’s satisfaction.

“Markus was pushy again, wasn’t he?” Carl sighed and gave Connor an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. No, no, don’t try to defend him, I know him only too well.”

“But I don’t want him to be punished, he didn’t mean any harm!” it shot out of Connor so vehemently, Hank almost jumped up from his seat. Then, his brain made sense of the exchange. This Markus bothered Connor to the point he rather came back inside instead of hanging out with fellow androids and horses? That guy better watched his step if he tried any shit again.

“Now, now, calm down, Connor.” Even Carl’s smile had disappeared to make a place for concern. “Nobody’s punishing anyone here. The lecture Simon is probably giving him while we’re speaking is punishment enough. We all know he’s a fine young man. Sometimes, he just gets too wrapped up in his desire to help and care, he pushes people too hard too quickly. It’s not okay he made you uncomfortable. But nobody’s going to hurt him. He’s a friend, not a toy us humans can do with what we want.”

Hank could feel Connor shrink next to him under Carl’s drilling glare. He got what Carl was doing and it was obvious Connor did as well. He didn’t think it was possible but Connor was moving even closer to him while avoiding any touch.

“That’s good,” he muttered, not looking at anyone.

“Yes. Ah, Connor, I’m sorry!” Carl’s fist hit his flat hand. “I need to ask you of a favor! See, it’s still an hour until dinner but I’m starving. As nobody else is close, would you mind going to the kitchen and asking the cook for a snack? I do remember Markus mentioning something about a cheese plate.”

“Yes, of course! If you tell me where the kitchen is, please.” Connor jumped abruptly to his feet, his left shin knocking against the table. Hank was certain he saw him flinch but it only lasted for a second. Connor nodded as Carl explained to him which doors to take and after Hank insisted on Connor borrowing ‘his’ slippers, he was on his way.

Hank and Carl stared after him until the door closed behind him. He’d only be away a few minutes. Hank had to hurry.

“Well, as I wanted to say before, I think-”

“He’s not staying here.”

The cold firmness cut Hank off and the words withered in his throat. “But…” was all he managed.

“I said he’s not staying here. Forget it. I talk to him if you want. If he wants. He’s welcome to visit anytime. But he is not staying here.”

“But it’d be better for him. Carl! You’ve got experience with androids. Markus lives freely here. Connor could learn from that. And nobody else in this house seems to have a problem with androids. Here he could-”

“No, he couldn’t. He doesn’t want to. Didn’t you see that, Hank? He’d have hidden behind you if he wasn’t so obstinate about acting like he wasn’t a deviant. He comes to you for protection. When he’s reacting with fear it’s not because of you but because of whoever hurt him in the past. It wouldn’t be different here.”

Hank was rubbing his forehead and shaking his head until the tousled mess that was his hair fell into his face.

“This isn’t about what he wants but what is best. I’m not able to help him. You, however-”

“Bullshit,” Carl hissed, his hands clenching the armrests of his wheelchair as he bowed over the table as far as his body allowed. “You can. It’ll be harder for you because you’re a stubborn donkey, Hank Anderson. But this boy needs you and not me or Markus or Simon. Because obviously, that’s what he wants.”

“But why?” Hank cried out in dismay, his heart pounding in his chest. Yes, fine, he admitted it, over the last days, he had begun to enjoy the company of the android, there had been moments where he thought, hey, maybe they’d get along after all without being at each other’s throats before Christmas. But he wasn’t like Carl ‘the Wise’ Manfred or Gentle-to-a-fault Simon. No matter how hard he tried, he’d only cause Connor more pain.

“Who knows? Obviously, he sees something in you that you’ve long forgotten after you quit your job-”

“They fired me!”

“Or it’s simply the fact you look like a grizzly bear and promised him you wouldn’t beat him. A strong man to protect him. Ever thought of that? That maybe, he didn’t want you to heal him, but a place where he feels safe?”

“I don’t know…” But Carl’s words were already cracking through his resistance. It’d be a lie to claim he didn’t grow a few inches inwardly. Strong, bear, protective. There had been days when he’d been all that, at the job and at home.

“Come to term with it.” Carl sat up upright. It was easy to see the tall, slinky man from decades ago whose charm drew the wildest of the youth to his parties like a flame a swarm of moths. Who’d flip off the police without fear. “You’re not adding abandonment issues to the poor guy’s list by leaving him here.”

“Okay, okay, I give up!” Hank growled, raising his hands in defeat as he stood up and searched for his glass. Damn, he needed another drink.

“And not one minute too soon.” Carl was back to his relaxed, gentle self when the door opened and Connor returned with a large plate of small sandwiches.

*

Connor served the plate the cook had given him and resumed his spot by Hank’s side. For the next half of an hour, he listened to the men talking about food and horses. Despite Hank’s unwillingness to come here, he and Carl got along well. They were calm and respectful and laughed at each other’s jokes. Connor enjoyed their company and was happy for Hank to have a friend. Although, this probably meant more visits would follow and he would be expected to spend more time with Markus and Simon.

As on cue, the two androids opened the door and joined them. Simon occupied a single-seat armchair, Markus sat on the armrest. Simon smiled but Markus avoided to look at him directly and his voice, strong and full before, sounded subdued when he asked Carl if there was anything to do for him. Otherwise, they left Connor alone and he was grateful for that.

“Well, I guess it’s time for dinner!” Carl clapped and rubbed his hands. “Compliment to the chef, the sandwiches were wonderful but unfortunately, they left me craving for more! Markus, would be so kind and let the kitchen know we’re ready anytime? I hope you agree, Hank?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely. Anything I can help with?”

The artificial heart jumped in Connor’s chest when Hank raised. His service wasn’t demanded and it’d be rude if he followed but he didn’t want to be left alone with Simon or even Carl.

“Hank, please!” Carl clutched his heart and for a second, Connor feared he’d really have a heart attack but then he noticed the twinkle in the old man’s eyes. “You and Connor are my guests! Your job is it to make yourself comfortable!”

“If you say so. But I really don’t mind to help.” But to Connor’s relief, Hank sat down again. Connor’s hands relaxed and it was only then that he realized he had clawed them into the seat of the sofa.

The remaining evening was peaceful and pleasant. Carl had suggested Connor and the other two androids probably don’t want to watch to hungry men eat and why they don’t just enjoy the evening on their own terms. Connor had shaken his head and insisted he didn’t want to impose and was quite content where he was. To his surprise, Carl nodded and left it at that. Hank shrugged and told him to suit himself. Simon stepped on Markus’ foot when he opened his mouth and the two of them moved away from the dining table to enjoy a game of chess at the other end of the room.

The humans had another drink after they were done eating and soon after that, Hank decided it was time to go home. It was cold outside and raining stronger than before; if they waited much longer, the uneven road would freeze over.

“Hey, I’m really sorry,” Markus whispered for Connor’s ears only when they shook hands and said goodbye.

“Yes, it’s okay.” Connor believed him but he didn’t trust him to behave differently the next time they met, even if Markus tried.

“It was nice to meet you, Connor.” Carl wrapped his hands around Connor’s. “Thank you for making sure our Hank doesn’t remain all lonely up there. And please know you’re welcome here any time. Together or alone.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Connor looked at their hands. His weren’t large by any means but Carl’s long fingers were so fragile and skinny. Humans were strange beings. How could they still smile and joke while time was eating their strength away until, one day, nothing would be left.

“Yours still look strong,” he said after they’d been on their way home for a while.

“Uh, what?” Hank focused on the road ahead. It was pitch dark and the rain hindered their sight further and with all the clouds so heavy they seemed to touch the treetops, neither the moon nor the stars shared their cold light. Until now, there had been silence between them, aside from Hank muttering about them ending in a ditch if the road got any worse.

“Your hands,” Connor clarified, pulling up the collar of his jacket to protect his face from the wind. “They’re big and full of life despite your age.”

“My hands are what now and whaddya mean, my age?! I’m not that much of an old man, yet!”

“No, you aren’t. Although you’re older than I look. I mean, the way I was designed to look. But not as old as Carl.” It was a shame the domestic assistants weren’t equipped with night vision. Right now, Connor would have loved to have a better look at Hank’s face, to understand the lines around his eyes, the dark shades beneath, and the color of his beard.

“Yeah, Carl’s not looking that good. Has been aging rapidly since I moved here.” Hank dropped his head and sighed. “Hard to tell how many years he has left on this damn planet.”

“This is sad. For humans,” he quickly added. “To have to live with the emotions that come with loss.”

“Yeah… right. Humans. Connor.” Hank sat up and let his head roll to the side to face him. “Aren’t you getting tired of this? Pretending this whole Mr. Robot thing? You’d be a lot less twitchy if you just started being yourself.”

“No. I cannot act like something I’m not!” The heart and thirium pump in his chest worked at an alarming speed. The artificial blood wasn’t pumped efficiently and fog was filling his mind. He had to calm down. He bit on the inside of his cheek until he tasted thirium. His fingers dug so sharply into his pants and skin they’d leave bruises. Nothing of this would last longer than a few minutes but the short pain cleared his head and the pump went back to its regular pace. “I can simulate sympathies for the ordeals you humans go through. That’s all. Aging and death is a foreign concept to me and I only thought about it for analytical purposes.”

“Just shut up.”

They didn’t talk much for the rest of the evening. He helped Hank with Stella and regretted how easy unbridling her had become. He’d have liked to spend another moment with the horse but staying in the stable wasn’t efficient and so, he had to go inside.

He endured Sumo’s greeting without twitching or stepping away. He even put a hand on the dog’s head. That seemed to be enough assurance of Connor being okay for Sumo and he moved on to Hank who instantly went to his knees and hugged his companion. Connor watched them with a stoic expression that didn’t give his fascination away. Sumo was a large breed, the largest he had ever encountered but close to Hank, he looked just like a regular sized dog.

“Gonna watch TV. Want to join?” Hank asked, still petting Sumo. Connor looked at the door leading to the living room. As Hank ate in the kitchen, its only seemed to function as a TV room although it was equipped with a nice, dark table and enough chairs to host three guests. It was cozy in there with the fireplace and the windows facing the old apple trees outside.

“I don’t gain entertainment from TV like you, I’m afraid. But thank you for the offer.” He smiled politely and hurried up the stairs. Hank was more difficult to understand than on the first day. He was nice, verily so, but it was the kind of niceness Connor wasn’t allowed to accept. It was good and bad. Like the visit. Like seeing Markus and Simon and talking to Carl.

This had been a strange day and the only thing he was certain of was he didn’t want to end it in a fight with Hank.

*

“You got pretty good at this!” A scarf muffled Hank’s voice and the storm distorted most of the words. If he didn’t stand close enough to Connor to put a hand on his shoulder, Connor wouldn’t have heard him. He smiled and emptied the remaining chicken feed over the birds’ heads.

“Thank you. I do my best.” He slid out of the pen and checked the latch twice to make sure it closed properly.

“I can see that. Geez, fuck this weather.” The wind had turned again and blew a cold, heavy mix of rain and snow into their faces. “It’s gotten only worse. Damn, I really wanted to show you how to ride.”

Connor almost dropped the bucket but caught himself just in time.

“Ride? Me? On a horse?” He had done such a good job at keeping a calm, neutral face since they came back from visiting Carl a few days ago but now, his mouth twitched and he couldn’t control the panic in his voice.

“Of course on a horse or do you think I hide an elephant somewhere?” Hank laughed and gestured Connor to follow him to Stella. They both shuddered when they closed the stable door behind them. Connor tried to shake off the water with mediocre success. They’d been soaked within less than five minutes after going outside and it felt good to be finally out of the wind. The stable was a wonderful place to take a deep breath. The air always felt warm and the calm presence of the horse was comforting. Stella welcomed them with a high-pitched nicker and her nose went straight to Connor’s pocket.

“Hello, Stella. Sorry, no sugar today but I have something better!” He opened the zipper of his jacket and pulled the red, shiny apple he had nicked from the fruit bowl in Hank’s kitchen from the hidden pocket. Stella’s appetite for shiny apples was higher than her awe and it disappeared quickly from Connor’s hand.

“Was that one of the fancy ones you insisted to put on Monday’s list because they’re so rich on vitamins, it’s good for me?” Hank suddenly stood behind him, close enough for Connor to feel his breath on his neck. His body tensed.

“Yes. But I assure you it wasn’t a good one! The skin was wrinkly and it was bruised. It didn’t look appropriate for a human to enjoy. And most humans prioritize enjoying food over considering it solely on its nutritional value, isn’t that correct?”

“Whatever you say, chef.” Hank chuckled, put a hand on Connor’s hat and pushed it over his eyes.

Connor frowned but Hank was already greeting the horse, “Morning, lady. Keep in mind who spoils you with expensive apples once he’s finally on your back.”

“Hank, about that,” Connor pushed his hat back in place and rubbed over his eyes. “I’m not sure I understand your motivation behind this suggestion. I see no need to become a horseman.” In fact, he could think of several reasons why it was a good idea for him to ride on Stella but he could hardly tell Hank that as much as he liked Stella, she was still of an impressive size when he was standing next to him. That it didn’t bother Hank, who was a good head taller than him, wasn’t a surprise.

“Errands, being flexible when the weather is too shitty for a cart or car, getting from point A to point be in case of an emergency.” Hank counted the same arguments Connor was thinking of on his fingers. “Late at night, one of those summer storms, there’s an emergency with one of the cows. Wouldn’t be the first time the lines were dead and somebody had to drag Doc Foster out of the pub. Would be convenient for both of us and the animals if you could ride, too. But most importantly-”

Connor held his breath when Hank grabbed firmly into Stella’s mane, pulled himself up, and swung one long leg over her back. The horse stood perfectly still while Hank grinned down at him, comfortable as if he was sitting in his armchair.

“It’s fucking fun!”

Stella turned her head, her ears twitching as if she wanted to say, “Are you at it again,” and snorted through her nose.

“I, well, it makes sense, I guess.” Connor was helpless at the sight of this tall man on this tall horse. He couldn’t help stammering. Hank on horseback was intimidating. Yet, a part of Connor wanted to let go of all concerns and climb the horse himself but the rest of him reminded him he’d never look as awe-inspiring as Hank.

“Of course it does.” Hank jumped back to the ground. “And don’t worry your pretty head. She has the patience of a saint, she’s a great learning horse. Not in this weather, though. But better get used to the idea that this will be your place in a few days. It can’t rain forever, after all.” Hank growled, glaring at the door as if the storm on the other side would care about his scorn. “Anyway,” Hank relaxed and turned to Connor, “What I wanted to say is, no need to be afraid. She’s kind and I’ll be there. It’ll be fine.”

“Hank, it must be tiresome to hear but I’m not able to feel afraid or scared,” Connor explained politely, clenching his fists. As of late, whenever he was forced to repeat he was not a deviant and not capable of emotions, his head began to hurt and his mind became blurred. The first time it happened after he had run from Markus and Simon on Saturday. It was concerning but he had no idea how to fight it, other than trying to calm down. At least he hadn’t collapsed again.

“I think I’m not the one suffering under anything _tiresome_ here.” Hank sighed and walked past him, his cheerful mood gone. “Take care of her, will you? I’ll look after the cows.”

“Of course.”

 


End file.
